Playing With Fire
by kimcooperx
Summary: Evolution were everything she hated but they were the only people who could get her job back. They promised her everything on one condition : she joined them. Evolution/Lita story set in 2003
1. Chapter 1

**This story has been posted before, I've simply taken it down to make some minor adjustments - mainly spelling and grammatical issues - but all ten chapters will go up over the next few days and then I'll continue it with a new chapter and so on and so forth.**

**As always, I own nothing.**

**Please, read and review and enjoy :D**

**Kimberly**

**xx**

* * *

It was all a little too suspicious for Trish's liking; Matt Hardy did not just 'turn up' like that. Now if Jeff had just appeared at a Raw taping then she knew for a fact that she wouldn't bat an eyelid. But it wasn't Jeff – it was Matt. Matt only ever did things to benefit himself – the beating he had given his younger brother back in April had been testimony to that – and for a Smackdown superstar to just appear on Raw…There had to be something shifty going on. The blonde cast a look towards the only other occupant of the locker room – a pretty redhead who was currently lacing up her wrestling boots – and let out a near silent sigh. The girl, Lita, had been through a lot in the past few years; from breaking bones to breaking hearts, she'd done it all. But now, finally, she was moving on. She was back in the ring and, Trish was sure, a little romance was blossoming between her and a blonde, Canadian wrestler named Christian. She couldn't tell her Matt was in the arena. It would put her back so many months and ruin any progress she had worked so hard to make…

"Earth to Blondie," Lita laughed, waving a hand in front of Trish's face, snapping her from her thoughts about Matt. "I said I'm gonna go now… Orton just got Flair disqualified…" The diva swore under her breath – the "Nature Boy" Ric Flair had just taken on the girls' friend Rob Van Dam in a match for the title but fellow Evolution member and renowned cheat Randy Orton had gotten himself involved, disqualifying Ric and brutalising Rob in the process. "The Highlight Reel's up next and its best not to keep Jerky waiting…You know how he gets…" Trish laughed with a slight nod as the redhead left the locker room, her mind wandering back to Matt Hardy as the door closed behind her friend.

As Lita weaved her way through the corridors of the Ford Arena, her lip curled in disgust. Making their way in her direction were Ric Flair and Randy Orton, gloating about the 'victory' they had just secured over Rob. Of all the people she had come across, of all the factions and stables she had seen reign over the wrestling business, she had never loathed any quite as much as she did Evolution. "Well look here, Randy," Flair leered in the redhead's direction. "Its little Lita…You wanna come congratulate the future champ on his performance out there?" Ric clapped a hand on Randy's shoulder – Lita noted that the self-proclaimed Legend Killer winced at this movement – and grinned in her direction.

"I'd rather choke on my own vomit, thanks," she said, nodding her head and glaring at Ric. At one point in her career she had respected him – he had opened so many doors for her, even choosing her as the first female draft pick and allowing her a whole new world of chances – but now he was little more than a dirty old man who would do anything to win. And, rather than wait for any sort of response from the Nature Boy she stalked off towards the curtain where Jericho was already waiting, ready to host his weekly segment.

"I know how down in the dumps you are, but I know someone in the back who can bring you up…" Jericho grinned at the redhead, donned in his silly glasses with his hair tied back in a ponytail. The fans cheered, everyone thinking they knew who he was referring to. Even in the back, Trish Stratus herself gave a little excited 'whoop'.

"Jericho, if you're talking about Christian so help me – that is the last person that I wanna see right now…" Lita pursed her lips, looking unimpressed. 'The Sexy Beast' had brought her to his segment, first to mock her for losing and now to bring up Christian? She had half a mind to walk away right then and there.

And she would have, had the blond before her not continued. "No, no, no. I'm not talking about Christian," he said and, while the diva tried to look disinterested she couldn't help but question who he could be talking about. There was no real man in her life – there hadn't been since Matt… "I'm talking about someone that you're actually quite fond of…" The crowd, Lita and the commentators alike seemed confused. What on Earth was Chris Jericho talking about? "Oh yeah." The blond was lapping it up, enjoying the look of confusion on the young diva's face. "I'm talking about who's contract just expired on Smackdown…" He was dropping hints all right and, while a few dedicated fans in the crowd seemed to know who he meant, Lita was still dumbfounded. Dumbfounded, but intrigued nonetheless. "I'm talking about someone who's making his big return tonight, to Monday Night Raw. I'm talking about…"

But before Chris Jericho could tell the world just who he was talking about, the mystery man revealed himself, his trademark 'V1' titantron taking over the screen. With a cry of '_Oh Yeah'_ Matt Hardy bounced onto the ramp and Lita couldn't hide the smile that played on her lips. Her Matt had come back. As he climbed into the ring, the two stared at each other for mere nano-seconds before embracing in a hug. The diva was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat when the two broke apart and Matt silenced the crowd. He started to thank them but was silenced himself by a chant of 'Hardy' which the egomaniac in him had to stop to hear. "Lita, there's something that I need to ask you and its, uh, it's a really simple question. Here, take my hand…" Lita looked confused but watched as the North Carolina native stooped and took her hand in his. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a really long time now…" Matt dropped to one knee and Lita looked away, shielding her eyes. This was exactly what she had wanted but they were broken up now…She laughed to herself: if they were so 'over' why was he here? Why had he come back? He'd come back for her and that was all she needed. "Lita…"

Matt never did get to ask his 'simple question' as Molly Holly's ring music sounded, breaking up the happy moment. The Women's Champion stood at the top of the ring, one hand preoccupied with the gold title displayed over her right shoulder, a microphone in the other. "Excuse me, but I happen to have a question of my own," she said, amidst calls from the crowd, who were less than pleased to see the champion. "What do I have to do to get some respect around here? I'm the Women's Champion – I defeated Lita at Survivor's Series! But surprise, surprise, everything still revolves around you. You guys are unbelievable – you make me sick!"

Lita wanted nothing more than to rush up the ramp and beat Molly senseless with her own title. Instead, rationality beat the impulses and she grabbed for her microphone, but Chris Jericho got there first. "Whoa there Molly, sounds like there's a little animosity between you two; but lets use it to our advantage. Lets use it as a positive. Now I'm not the man in charge of making matches but there sure is a match that I'd love to see. I'd love to see the happy couple – Matt Hardy and Lita – together again, after all this time. Against Molly Holly and a male partner of her choice, right here, on Raw, tonight." The crowd screamed in response and Lita's heart raced; any chance to get her hands on Molly was a good opportunity.

And, with a nod, Molly expressed her delight at this situation, her blood pressure rising. A sick smile came to her lips as she announced her partner of choice to be Lita's worst nightmare : Eric Bischoff. And yet, as Molly stalked off angrily, the redhead grinned and clung to Matt. Her Matt. All she needed…

* * *

Trish was pacing the locker room, just waiting for her friend to arrive so she could explode. Was she really that gullible? How could she honestly believe that that sleazy little bastard would just turn up, completely out of the blue, and propose to her? Trish groaned – she couldn't word this predicament to her best friend without sounding bitter; she had had a bit of a romantic tryst with the younger Hardy and things had gone wrong. "Oh Lita…" she muttered to herself, taking a seat on one of the benches lining the walls of the room.

"Yeah?" the redhead appeared, as though from no where, by the door, smiling inanely at her best friend.

"Oh…I'm…Hi…"

"Are you okay, Trish?" the blonde nodded in response but, regardless of what reaction she had given to that question, she knew Lita would behave in the same way. "Did you see that Trish? Matt's back. He's back for me. He wants us…He…I think he's gonna propose Trish…I…Oh God…" Trish watched in amazement – and some feeling similar to horror – as her usually calm and collected best friend came totally undone in front of her, getting giddy at the thought of some guy. "Trish…You're not smiling…Are you not happy for me?"

"I…Lita, of course I am…" She forced a smile that even Lita, in her delirious state, could see through. "Its just…Well, can you be sure of him? Entirely sure, I mean?" Lita remained quite, just blinking as a way of response. "You know what he's like, Li. What about Jeff – look what he did to him…"

"He's not like that, Trish. That was…That was different," Lita frowned at Trish, shaking her head. "You know he's not like that…"

Trish swallowed hard, wringing her hands repeatedly. "Lita I just don't want you to get hurt…You've been…These past few months, you've made such progress and I'm scared you'll end up back where you started if he's back on the scene…"

"You don't have a clue, Trish. I love him. And he loves me. That's enough for me and it should be enough for you," the redhead sniffed before shaking her head at her best friend. "And if its not, then I don't know if we can still be friends…" And with that she left the locker room, willing her tear ducts not to well up. Trish was her best friend – had been for the longest time – and now she couldn't even be happy for her as she was preparing to get engaged to the one man she had ever loved.

For a second, the redhead paused and sniffed once more. Where could she go – Matt didn't have a locker room and was most likely catching up with Jericho and…Christian. It had been stupid of her, really. Just a one night thing, but she couldn't go to the same locker room as both Matt and Christian. And so she didn't. She wandered the corridors, checking her watch almost minutely until it was time for her Intergender Match. "That's what Bischoff said," she heard a voice she wasn't entirely accustomed to hearing speak from just around the corner. While the voice wasn't all that familiar, there was no denying who it belonged to. "If they lose tonight – she's fired."

"Shame," came a second voice, a more recognisable one and one Lita had no problem pinpointing to the youngest member of Evolution; Randy Orton. "That Lita's got a nice rack. Not bad legs either…Wouldn't mind seeing those thighs either side of my face…" The diva's breath hitched at what she was hearing – not that Randy Orton's mind was trailing the gutter (that much was expected of the walking hormone) but that she would be fired, should she and Matt lose the match. Once more, she checked her watch and was somewhat relieved to find that she had mere minutes to go before her match.

"Matt!" she called out, dragging herself along the canvas, her arm outstretched towards her boyfriend, straining every muscle in the limb. She was almost there, just inches away from tagging him into the ring when he leapt from the ring and backed away from her, leaving her alone. Alone and defenceless. Alone, defenceless and in threat of being completely brutalized by her biggest rival and the current general manager of Monday Night Raw. He was leaving her, hurting her, just like Trish said he would. And that was the last thing she could think of as she was pinned by Eric Bischoff.

At later dates, Lita was informed that Eric fired her before Matt informed her that she was selfish and that it was all her fault that he had been forced to do this. But at that point, the red head had been so consumed with grief, tears pricking her eyes and blood rushing in her ears, that it had been damn near impossible to process anything but the fact that Matt didn't want her. Her body ached, not just from the beating she had taken, but from the pain which racked her mentally, too. It was an almost catatonic state which she found herself in as she made her way backstage, through the corridors, past Christian and Trish – both of whom tried to speak to her – and to the locker room she had previously shared with Trish. Grabbing her bags, she turned swiftly and began to make her way towards the front door.

It was a cold night – even in Texas, November had its cold times – and the diva cursed herself for wearing shorts but, pulling her jacket tighter, she pushed the door to the Ford Arena open and took her first step into the frozen night. It was here that, for the first time, the redhead allowed a tear to cascade from her eyes. She was nothing without wrestling. Nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Diclaimer : I own absolutely nothing!**

* * *

The house was freezing cold – once again, Lita had forgotten to pay the bills and, as a way of repayment, had had her heating cut off. Her electricity, too, had been disconnected and even hot water was no longer available in her house. Three days before, she had lost her job and been thrown to the lions by the man she loved, to boot. Nothing was going right for the redhead and, hiding under a huge cardigan and swathed in a thick blanket, the diva – or rather, former diva – found herself drawn to Spike TV, her eyes glued to the screen as another brutal chair shot was delivered to the back of Goldberg's head. She had missed watching herself being fired – thank goodness – but even watching Dave Batista hurl the former champion from his shoulders, the redhead was filled with sadness at the thought that she would never wrestle again.

Tears were threatening to fall now – for the loss of her job, her passion and, in her eyes, her life – and she sniffed loudly, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She would not let Eric Bischoff make her cry; even if he was no longer her boss. _So no one told you life was gonna be this way… _Lita's cell phone began to ring and, before it could get to the line 'your job's a joke', the redhead grabbed it in one hand and bashed her thumb against the end call button. She turned back to the screen, but couldn't help but wonder who the call had come from. She had been avoiding Christian's calls for the past three days – although she had happily accepted calls from her other friends and former workmates – and, checking the caller ID, she prayed that he had given up this time, that he wouldn't call back. The number was not familiar to the former Women's champion and she frowned as she hit the call button to return the call.

It rang just once before the person on the other end picked up and Lita couldn't help but think it was an over-eager Christian, calling from another number in the hope that she would answer. "Hey," came the cool response and Lita frowned upon not recognising the voice.

"Hi – I think you just called me?" her voice was full of uncertainty, but she maintained a formal tone, her lips drying and her top lip sticking to her gum. There was something about that unfamiliar voice – the relaxed, yet formal tone, perhaps – that reminded her of Shane McMahon and the idea that he was phoning to give her her job back made her palms sweat and the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingle.

"And you hung up." The voice was matter of fact and, even through the static of the phone, it was instantly recognisable. Her heart sank – Shane McMahon, it was not. "Your silence tells me that you're not pleased to hear me call?"

"How did you get my number?" They were not friends by any means and she couldn't figure out how he had managed to get hold of it. None of her friends would stoop low enough to give him it; most of them hated him just as much – if not more – than she did and she wondered what he had had to do to get it.

"Its amazing what the promise of a good night can get you…" His words were cocky, smug even and, in the background, she heard a male guffaw. They were with him, of course, thought the redhead with a roll of her eyes. "I just called up the Headquarters, told the lovely…Sarah, I think her name was…that I could show her the time of her life and bam! I had your cell number…"

The usually sharp diva found herself unable to think up a witty response and, thus, she gave up after a good minute's silence. "Why?" she asked, slowly, this having been the thought which had prevented any quick answers from escaping her lips.

"I have a proposition…A proposition which could benefit you, Lita," There was something in the tone of his voice which unnerved Lita and a shiver ran down her spine. He was not known for his gentlemanly ways and the redhead swallowed hard, scared of what this proposition could be. She said nothing and, breaking the silence, he spoke again. "I can get you your job back, Lita. Your job – wouldn't you like that?"

She was ashamed to say that, upon hearing these words, her ears pricked up and she became suddenly interested. So this is his side of the bargain, she thought to herself, touching her bottom lip with her free hand in a nervous manner. He couldn't expect her to do anything too bad…It wouldn't be life threatening and her job _was_ at stake. "And what do I have to do in return?" she asked, the cynic in her screaming that she shouldn't be so stupid, that she should walk away and find another, more legit, way to get her job back while the wrestler in her was telling her to go for it, regardless of the consequences.

"Always with the suspicion…But I suppose, in your position you need to be suspicious…" he trailed off and the former diva noted a sudden seriousness, a brisk, business-man-like tone in his voice which alarmed her. There was no longer any laughter in the background and yet she was painfully aware that his business associates – or 'family' as they had once been called - were listening in. "Basically, if you agree to this…one thing…just a small thing, really, then you're back in the business. It would surprise you how much influence we have over Eric…" There was no need to state who 'we' was and Lita nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. "All you have to do is join us."

"Join what?"

"Join us. _Us_, Lita. It's a win-win situation; for both you and us. In return for joining us you get your job back, you get protection – protection from people like Matt Hardy – and, without fail, someone will always be at your back. The only requirement is that you-"

"Sell my soul? No, thank you, Orton – I can get my job back on my own." And with that, she slammed her thumb once more onto the 'end call' button and threw her phone down onto the sofa beside her, closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the sofa.

* * *

Lita didn't sleep that night and, upon leaving her bed at just half past six the next day, was ashen faced with dark circles underneath her eyes. Her hair was tousled and there were red spots by her temples where she had rubbed them. She stumbled through to the kitchen where she poured herself a bowl of cereal only to realise that there was no milk. With a heavy sigh, she thumped the bowl onto the breakfast bar, the bran flakes flying out haphazardly onto the counter as the redhead made her way into the living room. Her cell phone lay exactly where she had left it the night before, the light to signal a new text or missed call flashing rapidly. "Bloody Christian…" she muttered and, for just a second, she had forgotten about Randy Orton's offer from the previous night. Sitting down, she picked up the cell and checked her 'to do' box – three new messages. The first one was from Lilian, which had come just seconds after Randy's phone call, asking how she was. Lilian was always the concerned friend; the one who looked after Lita and Trish when anything went wrong, regardless of how big or small. The second came from Trish asking if the redhead would like to stay with her over the weekend – to keep the blonde company. Lita laughed; of course it had nothing to do with the fact that she thought Lita might be suicidal.

The laugh hung in midair, however, when she saw the third and final text. "The offer stands. Deadline is Sunday. RKO." It was simple but those six words caused a cold chill to hit the redhead. She had thought it over all night, weighed up the pros and cons of the offer at least ten times and yet she was still swaying over it. Naturally, she had to turn it down – it was the only logical thing to do. But there was a tiny voice in the back of her mind, willing her to take it. Sure, it meant joining the enemy – selling her soul, as she had put it the night before – but that was a small price to pay to get her job back. She dropped the phone back down onto the sofa and ran her hand through her hair. "Its not worth it…" she said aloud. Evolution were hated by everyone else in the company; they stood alone and they didn't need anyone else. As a fan favourite, a popular girl backstage, she couldn't do that to herself. She would lose her friends for sure – the idea of not having Trish and Lilian by her side scared her a little – and she doubted she could handle such a lonely life. Just her and Evolution.

And besides, Hunter was a part of Evolution. She couldn't work with Hunter. Ever. They would clash over everything – he was a rude, foul man with a nasty temper and him keeping said temper around her was highly doubtful. She'd be setting herself up for beating after beating by joining Evolution. It just wasn't a viable option.

She got dressed and drove to the nearest supermarket, filling her cart with all her necessities. Fish, rice, milk, sugar, soda. But every time she deposited something into the cart, another reason to join Evolution came to mind. Fish: they can get you your job back. Rice: they can protect you from Matt. Milk: if you act like the perfect little member of Evolution, they'll beat Matt up and make you feel better. Sugar: you'll get more title shots. Soda: _they can get you your job back. _No matter how many pros or cons she came up with, the fact that they could get her her job back seemed to overlook them all. She knew this to be far from an empty promise; Evolution just had to snap their fingers and Eric Bischoff would do as they asked.

The drive home was silent as was her shower that evening. She diverted all calls and found herself going online after dinner, scouring youtube for videos of Evolution.

_You see, in this industry – just like in life – everything evolves. What you see in this ring before you is the greatest example of Evolution that you will ever see. Ric Flair…a living legend…all of the things Ric Flair represents, I am today…you have to look to the future – and I look to you Dave Batista…and Randy Orton…the man has every gift that a man can be given…the coal that will be squeezed into the next diamond…Its just a natural process of Evolution._

Hunter Hearst Helmsley's words from the last video she had watched – Evolution's debut – ran through her mind long into the night. If she believed the words he said, which, slowly, she was starting to do, they could only do her good. If you're not good enough then Evolution leaves you behind, he had said. She didn't really want to be left behind, did she?

She was still asking herself that question at half past six on Monday evening as she sat in an empty hotel room, staring at her knees and waiting for four men who she did, by no means, trust to arrive. "This is my job…Its all I've ever had…All I'll ever need…" taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her shirt. She had to admit that it was not her first choice but this was Evolution she was meeting and everyone knew how…stuffy they could be with appearance. She glanced at her watch and tutted. "This is useless. I can't join Evolution…" And, grabbing her cell, she prepared to call the number she had come to know as Randy's and call it back, telling him the deal was off but, before she could even get to her 'contacts', the handle of the door turned and the door opened. Ric Flair entered first, dressed in a black suit, his white shirt unbuttoned and rubbing his hands together. Behind him stood Dave Batista, looking menacing in a blue shirt and dress trousers. Lita gulped upon seeing him, his size alone being enough to strike fear into the heart of anyone. Randy Orton followed, smirking and adjusting his watch, looking as though he were the cat with the proverbial cream.

And then he was there, swaggering in with enough arrogance to fill the vast majority of a small principality. Hunter Hearst Helmsley outstretched his arms and smirked at the diva as Dave manoeuvred around him, closing the door. "I told you you'd come running back to me, didn't I? You're so low, these days…I bet you're wishing you did dance for that dollar?" A nerve twitched in the redhead's jaw but she remained silent, refusing to let him get to her but the goading could only continue. "Orton tells me he made you a bit of a proposition that you've eagerly accepted…And then he offered you to join Evolution…" Dave let out a low, baritone laugh and Ric smirked in the corner with Randy obscured from view now that Hunter had taken centre stage. "What could you bring to Evolution, hmm? Why should we let you join?"

"Champ, you agreed…" Ric warned, frowning. "We offered – she accepted – we get to the arena and get it sorted out." Ric spoke in his usual business-man tone and, clapping a hand on Hunter's shoulder, he pulled the larger man back. "We're a team, Hunt. No goading." He whispered in his friend's ear.

"So that's it?" Lita asked, an eyebrow raised. "I'm in Evolution now? No rules? No warnings?"

"Oh," Randy spoke up for the first time. "You'll be getting briefed on those in the limo. Now give me your bag and we'll head down there now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Three chapters removed, re-read, edited and re-uploaded in a day so far. I'm hoping to get them all done by tomorrow night so I can start work on chapter 11!**

* * *

The ride in the elevator was short yet the air was painfully thick – the silence was awful and Lita was scared to even breathe for fear that one of the four men, who were all much larger than her, would disapprove. It also bothered her that Randy was carrying her bag and the entire time they were in the enclosed space, she questioned whether she should pull it from his grip. But, needless to say, she did not and Randy left the elevator with her bag slung casually over one shoulder, his own, much heavier looking bag pulled slightly higher. The members of Evolution and Lita – for she refused to think of herself as a member – exited the hotel just as silently and made their way to the limo. She had never travelled by limo and a part of her, which disgusted her greatly, was excited about this. The excitement was soon gone, however, when she actually entered the limo and realised she would be stuck in this small space with these four for an undefined amount of time.

Sitting in the back of the luxury car, Lita stared out of the window though what she saw blurred into a sea of grey as they passed high rise hotel after high rise hotel. Even she couldn't pretend to actually be interested in the view, but anything was better than looking at the four men she was sharing the vehicle with. They made idle chit chat between them, talking about the football game which had taken place over the weekend, about the ribs Ric had enjoyed the last time they had been in the city and, rather animatedly, whether Bischoff had scheduled Batista for a match that evening. Lita, however, remained silent. "What do you say, Lita?" asked Ric, staring in the direction of the redhead who looked back, baffled. "We're heading out for some dinner after the show – there's a great ribhouse just off the freeway…"

"I'm vegetarian," she replied simply, neither answering yes or no before turning back to stare at the passing view. Hunter rolled his eyes but, smartly, said nothing. While he didn't like nor respect her, he needed to keep the redhead on his side if Evolution were to completely take over.

Ric looked between the blond man and the latest addition and frowned. He had hoped the ribhouse could have been a team building venue. "You don't have to eat the ribs," he said, turning to Randy in hopes that the youngest member could convince her to go with them. "I hear they do a mean pasta…"

"No, thank you," Lita's eyes never left the window as she replied. The last thing she wanted to do was have dinner with them. After Raw, she was finding her friends and apologising – she had, so far, kept her plans quiet and none of her friends knew she would be attending Raw that evening. She was going to arrive, on camera, to the arena with Evolution – the men that she and her friends had despised from their very debut – and she was going to expect her friends to accept that. Accept that she had joined the enemy…

"Now listen here," Hunter spoke for the first time and, cracking his fingers, he turned to face the diva. "There's a few things you have to learn about being in Evolution. We're a team – one for all and all for one. Whether that means taking a blow in the ring or doing what the rest of us want to do after Raw – you do it. Got it? If Evolution are going for dinner, that doesn't just mean Ric, Randy, Dave and myself. That includes you. And, whether you like it or not – you're going to be there tonight. No doubts about it." Hunter spoke clearly, his voice never raising – which was strange for the Greenwich native – and, for some reason, this scared Lita even more. "And, while we're on the topic of you – straighten that face up before we get to the arena. We're getting you your god damn job back – you could try and look grateful. Oh, and next week? Try not to look like you just rolled in off the street…"

Lita sat dumbfounded. Not only was this arrogant prick telling her what to do, but he was telling her how to dress too? "No, Hunter. You listen –"

But her words were cut off as Ric Flair raised both his hands, "Champ, Lita." he said, calmly, silencing them both. "Calm down. Tonight's a big night. Tonight's the night that Evolution finally becomes a family. Tonight's the night we take on the world." Randy, sitting across from the sixteen time champion smirked and Dave let out a noise of agreement. Hunter nodded but said no more and, taking up her position staring out the window, Lita muttered, 'Remember, Lita – they're getting you your job back.'

The limo pulled to a halt in the parking lot where the lights were still dimmed as wrestlers and divas alike entered the arena. "We'll get out here, Hunt," Dave said, adjusting his suit jacket. "We'll go speak to Bischoff first – inform him of how things are going to go down." Lita wouldn't deny it, just the man's words sent shivers down her spine; everything about him was frightening and she knew Bischoff would never stand up to him. No one in their right mind would. A small voice in her head told her that 'Rob would – and Christian too. And Jericho' and, while she giggled to herself that Jericho couldn't quite be considered 'in his right mind' the other two could. Her friends would happily take on 'the big man' of Evolution and yet, here she was, siding with him.

With a nod from Triple H, Dave opened the door and let himself out. Lita heard the trunk open and Dave retrieve his bag as Randy leaned across, grinning like the cat who'd gotten all of the cream. "Don't worry," he whispered almost inaudibly, so close that she could smell the spearmint from the chewing gum he was chewing on. "It'll all be okay…We'll look after you…" And, before she could reply or before Hunter could question him, he was out of the limo, taking his bag from Dave and was halfway into the arena.

* * *

"I'm as worried as you are Christian but I'm not planning to lose my job to fly to Georgia where Lita may or may not be happy…" the blonde told her friend, her lips pursed as she pulled her knee pad up over the left joint. "You have a match tonight and if you rush off to catch the flight to Georgia, you'll miss it. You think Lita would want you to lose your job too?"

Christian frowned in response – he hadn't thought of it like that. Naturally, he didn't want to lose his job but at the same time, Lita had been ignoring his calls for the past week. She had, originally, answered Trish and Lilian's calls – hell, even Rob had gotten through to her on the Wednesday morning – but over the weekend contact with the redhead had dried up and his worry had been steadily increasing, day by day. "Trish, you haven't heard from her since what – Saturday?"

"Friday morning, actually – I asked her to come stay with me but she declined…" The blonde adjusted her knee pad once more and took a seat on a fold-away chair which, no doubt, would end up wrapped around someone's head. "Look, Christian – you need to think this through. You're in a match with Matt Hardy – a match you used your favour to get – you have your chance to show her you care by putting that rat bastard in hospital. There's no need to fly out to see her only to upset her – cause you will, Christian, you will – when you can just beat that asshole senseless…Sort of like a hidden message that we both know she'll pick up on…"

"I know, I know…" the Canadian was defeated and he ran a hand across his short blond hair. "She's just…this is her first Raw as an ex-wrestler. You never know what she'll do…"

Trish let a giggle escape her lips. "Christian, you've got to be kidding, right? Lita is not just going to give up and kill herself because she lost her job – she's going to keep fighting. You know I wouldn't be surprised if she's in this arena right this very second." Trish smiled at the thought. "You now, it would be so typical of Lita to be banging on Eric Bischoff's door, all the while on the phone to Austin, kicking up hell…" This seemed to be justification enough for Christian, who nodded simply. "Now if you don't mind, I have a match to prepare for – I'm gonna kick Molly's ass for what she did to Li…"

* * *

The Evolution locker room was, to say the least, very different compared to any Lita had ever stepped foot in. Where, usually, stood a bench, a locker or two and a handful of fold away chairs – and all to accommodate six or seven people – was two black, leather sofas, a mini bar, a television and a safe. It looked more like the back room of a social club rather than a locker room. "Take a seat," Ric said, entering the room behind her and throwing his suit jacket over one of the sofas. "The boys shouldn't be too long – Bischoff's easily persuaded."

"Bullied, you mean," the redhead retorted as she seated herself on the edge of the sofa nearest the door. However, any argument which may have erupted between the sixteen time champion and the former diva were ended before they could even begin as Hunter entered the room, that evening's schedule in his hand.

Lita and Hunter sat silently as Ric poured over the page, occasionally making noises of approval and saying things like "That could be a good time…" However, it was when he flipped the page over and his eyes fell on the last two matches on the card that he grinned devilishly, an evil twinkly coming to the elderly man's widening eyes. "How would you like us to deal with your little Hardy problem?" Lita frowned. Protection from Matt Hardy had been one of the deciding factors in her decision to join the faction but she couldn't understand what Ric was looking for 'a good time' for or how it would tie in with her problem with Matt. "We have to show you off, you know – make an entrance. And what better way to do it than this." Ric pushed the card forward and pointed to the second last match – 'Christian vs Matt Hardy'. Lita swallowed, knowing that Christian had probably begged for the match. "The boys'll get in early and teach Hardy a little lesson…"

Neither Lita nor Hunter spoke as the door opened, Randy and Dave entering the room, the youngest member of the faction throwing himself onto the sofa beside Lita, the furniture moving back a good six inches under his weight. "Its all sorted but he says he wants a word with Hunt – something about a handicap match?" The small, sadistic grin appearing on Hunter's face sent a chill through Lita's body.

* * *

Trish's match did not go as well as she had expected it to – while she tried her hardest, she was no match for Molly with Victoria at ringside. Being thrown from the ring, the petite blonde was ambushed by Victoria, the brunette sending her tumbling to the ground.

Lita sat through the back, her jaw clenched as she watched her friend get attacked. She had tried to leave the locker room, to get down to the ring and to aid Trish but, upon trying, she had discovered that no matter how much she struggled and flailed, Dave Batista was much stronger than she was and she would not be leaving the locker room as long as he was there. "Lita, stop!" Randy groaned loudly, sick of the whining noise coming from the redhead beside him. "You're not going out that door and that's it! Hunter said you're to stay in here all night. Well, until Hardy's match. Then you come down with us…" Randy paused, popping one of the cashew nuts he had bought from the vender into his mouth. "Now shut the hell up while we watch this." As much as he enjoyed the prospect of Lita being a member of Evolution, he was not enjoying the incessant complaining.

"This is why no one likes you…"

"No one likes us because we win, Lita. Now I wont tell you again – shut the hell up."

The redhead glared at the younger man who's eyes remained glued to the television ahead. "No. They hate you because you're assholes. Lying, cheating assholes who don't deserve to be a part of this company."

"And you're one of us now. So what does that make you?"

* * *

For most of the night, Lita was silent, answering only when Hunter demanded it and the diva kept her head down when Ric defeated Chris Jericho thanks to Batista's interference. But now, as Waterproof Blonde's 'Just Close Your Eyes' resonated through the arena, the redhead was filled with questions. Would they hurt Christian? What would they do to Matt? Should she go down with them to start with? Should she get involved? "Change of plans," Ric announced as they left the Evolution locker room, Batista already having checked that the coast was clear. A loud cry of 'Oh yeah' told the redhead that Matt Hardy was on his way down to the ring. "Orton and Batista will go down without you. When things get serious, you go down there. Make it look like you're gonna stop the boys. And then…its your prerogative." Lita nodded, swallowing hard. "But if Randy tells you to get out the ring – you get out the ring. If he tells you to get a sledgehammer – you get the sledgehammer. You answer to him when you're down there. Got it?" Lita nodded bitterly, unhappy at having to 'answer' to the third generation superstar. Randy, however grinned, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "When we go back down – for the handicap match against Goldberg – I'll be at ringside for the boys. You and Hunt stay back here. Then, when Goldberg's well and truly down – we cant risk your big entrance being ruined by him attacking you – we'll announce the new member of Evolution." The white-blonde man grinned with pride at the faction before first turning to Randy, then Dave. "I'd say its time to go boys…"

The redhead watched with wide-eyed fear as Randy and Dave made their way to the ring, the larger man hauling Christian away from Matt almost effortlessly before Randy 'took care of' the North Carolina native. It was almost with a feeling of excitement – which later made her feel quite sick – that she watched The Legend Killer's fists draw blood and her stomach turned rapidly as the third generation superstar left Matt to Dave as he exited the ring. For a second, she thought he was leaving the ring permanently until the tall male began rifling underneath the ring. She knew what he was planning on doing, knew that this was the time she should make her entrance. She waited until Randy had slid back into the ring, steel chair in hand, before signalling to the sound-technician to hit Evolution's ring song. By the time it started, Dave had positioned the semi-conscious wrestler on his shoulders and the steel chair was placed in front of him.

Fans turned to watch the titantron as Motorhead's 'Line In The Sand' played, yet there was no sign of Hunter nor of Ric. Even Randy forgot his position as Dave's cheerleader and turned to stare. Nothing. He was beginning to think that the redhead had chickened out when she appeared at the top of the ramp. She ran and many fans assumed she was trying to prevent Matt from taking such a beating – even if he had hurt her the week before. But, as she pushed her way through the ropes, Dave threw him onto the chair with a sickening crunch and a thud, Matt Hardy flopping lifeless onto the canvas. There was many things Lita could have done at this point – many of the fans expected her to shield Hardy, Dave half expected her to kick the southern bastard but, surprising most, she reached out and took Dave's hand, then Randy's and raised them high in the air. Rather than the fan reaction she expected, the arena fell silent and, through the silence, they made their way up the ramp.

Ric grinned and clamped one arm around Lita's shoulders. "You did it, Lita. You did it. You're one of us, now." And then she threw up.

Just minutes later and she was sat in Evolutions private bathroom. Matt's blood had transferred from Randy's hand and, scrubbing at her own, the red colouring wouldn't leave quick enough. She was a member of Evolution now; one of the bad guys. There was a loud banging on the door of the locker room and, switching the faucet off, she exited the bathroom with the intention of answering it. "Lita, get your little traitor ass out here right now. I swear to God I'm going to kill you. Evolution? What the fuck?" A loud bang let Lita know that Trish had kicked the door. There was a silent pause as Trish slid down the door, her head coming to rest against the wall beside it. "Why, Lita? Why them?" Lita stood silently, not sure if she should answer the door or not. "Lita you're my best friend and I couldn't believe it…tell me this is some sort of double crossing, that you're working to destroy them from the inside or something…anything…" The sniff from the other side told Lita that the blonde was crying.

A click and a turn of the handle later and Lita stood beside her best friend. "I'm so sorry…" she whispered, a silent tear creating a black smudge down her cheek.

Trish scrambled to her feet and, for a second, was torn between hugging and slapping the woman in front of her. "So that's it then?" she asked, her face contorted with anger. "I never actually expected you to be in there – I thought you were just, you know, glad they were taking Matt out. I thought, if she's in there…She's one of them. She's gone…"

"Its not like that Trish…They got me my job back. They can get me anything."

"And at what cost? Its already lost you your dignity," the blonde turned on her heel and began to walk away. "And your friends."


	4. Chapter 4

**Day two and I'm on chapter 4, aren't you the lucky ones. In the later chapters, there will be a few changes to the original. But, as per usual, I love your feedback and your reviews so, yeah, send them my way pwease ~bats eyelashes~ **

**Kimberly xx**

* * *

There was no denying Hunter's anger as they made their way down the ramp; the muscle in his jaw was tensing constantly and, while the fans took this to be because of Nash's interference in the Goldberg match or just because of Goldberg in general, Lita knew it was because of her. She had been stupid to think she could have ever gone through with this – it had been one thing to lose Matt, although granted that had been for the better, but now Trish… There was no way she could become a part of Evolution and she had told Hunter this, upon him finding her sitting outside the faction's locker room, her head against the wall, after she had resumed Trish's position. Needless to say, the World Heavyweight Champion had not taken to this idea and had insisted that she make her way down to that ring with him or 'so help him'. The threat wasn't empty, she knew that much, but she had forgotten to bite her tongue and had, quite simply, told Hunter to fuck off. The bruises that were slowly forming on her arm showed that Hunter had gotten his way after that.

The redhead was met with boos for the first time in her life that evening and, swallowing hard, was pushed almost roughly into the ring by Hunter who ushered Ric from the apron as he attempted to hold the ropes for the newest member of 'the family'. Randy Orton turned to glance at the diva before moving back to lean against the ring post, his arms stretched out either side of the turnbuckle. Dave stood nonchalantly by Ric's side, wiping a small droplet of blood from his chest while Hunter took the microphone forcefully from Lilian Garcia. "And tonight, ladies and gentlemen," he rasped into the microphone, his eyes glaring towards the bloody body laying in the centre of the ring. "You witnessed just how Evolution deal with our opposition." The man seemed to soften, for he was no longer glaring. In fact, if Lita wasn't mistaken, he had just extended his arm to her. Considering the argument which had occurred just five minutes ago, she questioned whether she should accept. "Come here, Princess." He said with his face contorted into what she assumed was a smile. Truth be told, Lita had never seen a smile on Hunter's face and, really, it was scary. "See, we're a team of elitists and, Lita here, is the Elite diva. But she had a problem; a problem we could solve. And that problem is Matt Hardy. Now that that problem is gone," Hunter motioned back towards Randy and Dave and, upon watching the recording later that evening, Lita was sickened to notice that she unintentionally smirked at this point. "Lita can rise up to her full potential once more. And what better way to do it, than as part of the Elite?"

Ahh so this was his plan, thought Lita as she stared blankly out at the crowd. Earlier in the night, while watching backstage, she had noticed a few fan made signs for her, all claiming that they would miss her or that she should return. Gazing up at the crowd, none were visible. Hunter's going to make you feel bad – they've already filled their part of the bargain but you're going to bail. She knew what was about to happen and yet she couldn't stop the guilt she felt as he grinned back at her, that sinister smile sending a chill into her very being. "So what do you say, Lita – are you in or are you out?

His hand remained outstretched towards the diva who appeared to dither for a second. Her face showed confusion and, for a second, Hunter was certain she was going to back out, that he could get what he wanted -a chance to humiliate her before throwing her to the wolves. "I'm in," she said, a smirk which looked wholly out of place on her pretty features, her hand coming into contact with Hunter's which, surprisingly, was soft as he held her hand high in the air.

* * *

"What a way to end Raw, huh?" Randy asked, lounging lazily in the limo as they headed towards 'that great ribs place' long after the ending credits of Raw had rolled. "Who saw that coming?" Reaching over, the third generation superstar grabbed a packet of chips which he had left in the limo before the show for 'post-show munchies'. Crunching his way through a handful of chips, he added, "Amazing."

Hunter glanced towards the younger man, his gaze quickly turning to linger on the redhead, the only female in the car. "For a minute there I didn't think that Miss Priss over there was going to join us," it sounded more like a question as opposed to a statement. His eyes were quizzical as they bore into the diva who, in turn turned to face him.

"I told you I'd join, didn't I? I gave you my word. That's enough," she replied stiffly, swallowing hard. "Isn't it?"

Hunter raised an eyebrow as Ric temporarily distracted him, reaching across to pull the chips from Randy's hand and telling him, in a mother-hen tone, 'You wont eat your ribs if you eat all of them'. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to Lita. "I'm just saying, Lita, that this is all about dedication – If you're not in this one hundred percent, you're not in this at all."

"I'm in it," she turned her body to face the self-proclaimed 'leader' of the faction. At this point, she could feel four pairs of eyes turning to stare at her. There was a moment's silence between the four, the only sound being Randy's loud chewing until she clarified, "One hundred percent."

This seemed to be all the proof that Randy, Dave and Ric needed for the three relaxed and their conversation turned to whether Randy should or should not be allowed to finish his bag of chips. But Hunter just returned to his silence.

* * *

The rib house was exactly as Lita had expected; the walls and wooden fixtures were painted a dark red, the wooden flooring covered in saw dust and a pungent smell of meat hung in the air. The redhead sat between Randy and Ric, both of whom were heartily tucking into a large rack or ribs, proving that Randy could, indeed, finish his ribs as well as his chips. "Great place, huh, Princess?" Ric asked, his lips stained a strange red colour from the barbecue sauce.

The redhead glanced at her salad and fries and shrugged noncommittally. Sure, what she had eaten had been nice but what rave review was there to give about a couple of sliced potatoes and a few bits of lettuce. "You don't like it?" Randy asked, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. "I mean, we can always go somewhere else afterwards – I'll drive you there. I've only had one drink so far…" Lita raised an eyebrow in the direction of the young man. "I'm just saying if you don't want to eat anything…We can go to some place else later – somewhere vegetarian, you know?"

After that, Lita was no longer the only one with a raised eyebrow as, in turn, Ric, Dave and, finally, Hunter, turned to face the youngest wrestler at the table, each with an eyebrow raised. "That would be nice and all but, really, Randy, I'll pass," the Georgia native replied, plunging her fork into a piece of lettuce. A smirk came to Dave Batista's face as Randy nodded, admitting defeat. "Really, the salad was fine."

"You sure?" Dave asked, more to continue the conversation rather than out of interest.

"Fucking hell," Hunter said exasperatedly, banging his fork and steak knife down onto the table with a clatter. "It is just a meal. Does it really matter if she likes it or not? Stop fawning over her. All of you. Seriously. She'll thank you for it."

While the diva didn't agree with the approach or the way he seemed to blame her for the 'fawning' – his eyes told his opinion – she had to admit, she was quite glad of the change of topic. It seemed unnerving, really, to have three men who, until a few days ago had shown nothing but hate towards her clucking around her like the proverbial mother hen.

The drive home, just like the initial drive to the arena, was silent on the diva's part. Hunter's outburst had brought the evening to a close and while Ric had paid for the extravagant meal, the other four had bundled themselves back into the limo where Randy had resumed eating his chips, Dave had announced that he would be 'entertaining' one of the divas that evening and Hunter had complained about the temperature of the limousine. But now, as they hurtled towards the hotel – at an alarmingly high speed for a limo – the vehicle was full of chatter from the four men, the only female staring, once more, out of the window.

"Actually, just let me out here, yeah?" Randy asked when the limousine was still at least half an hour from the hotel. "I got some uh, business I gotta settle tonight." Lita wanted to ask what this 'business' was but when the other three men just looked away, allowing the youngest to leave, she figured that it had to be rather serious for even Hunter not to question it.

Randy Orton and his duffel bag soon became a small speck on the horizon as the limousine picked up pace once more. "What kinda tricks was he pulling back at the rib house?" Hunter asked, just seconds later. In a high pitched, unrecognisable imitation of Randy, Hunter added, "I'll take you to go get your vegetarian food, Lita. I'll do anything to help you. Honest."

Dave rolled his eyes but said nothing in response. Ric on the other hand, felt the need to defend the younger man. "He's just a kid, Hunt," he said, shaking his head. "Nice girl sitting next to him, he's gonna want a piece of that. Especially when she looks like Lita, here." The Charlotte native inclined towards her as he added, "No offense, Lita."

The 'none taken' she offered was lost as Hunter spoke over her, "Well he better quit it – Evolution's a team. If he's gonna have his tongue hanging out every time she's around, chasing her around like a little puppy, we're gonna crumble."

"Its not like that, Hunter," the words left her mouth before she had realised it and, cursing herself inside, she found herself the centre of attention once more. "I mean, sure, he was acting like a…like…well, like a love sick puppy earlier. But maybe that's just how he thinks a gentleman should act? He's hardly getting a good example set by you three." The silence after her words didn't last long as all three men burst out laughing, the laughter continuing over Lita's cry of 'what's so funny?' until the car pulled up outside the hotel.

"Orton? A gentleman? Why don't you ask Stacy what a real _gentleman_ he is?" Dave said, thrusting the diva's duffle bag into her arms as he, Ric and Hunter left her to make her own way to her room, all three heading towards the hotel bar.

* * *

"Orton must think I'm stupid," Lita muttered, throwing her body onto the bed and pulling the red, regulatory starchy sheets over her. Her body was tired and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard. Just one week ago she had lay in a hotel room, crying herself to sleep, devastated at the loss of her job and yet, here she was, laying wide awake and thinking of the way she – and Evolution – had 'put paid' to Matt Hardy.

The bloody image of Matt Hardy played over and over in her mind as sleep evaded her and she found herself thinking more and more about her night; in particular, Trish's exit. After the blonde had left her, she had sat by the dressing room, her head pressed against the wall as salty tears slowly made their way down her cheek. And that was exactly how Hunter had found her. She had told him, as steadily as she could, that she had changed her mind, that she didn't want to be in Evolution any more and that she would be happy to just leave the arena, thanking him for his kind offer to get her job back. And, as events later that evening showed, he had not taken that as an answer. And, right at that moment, as she lay in the comfortable bed, she was glad.

She had been back at the hotel for exactly thirty-eight minutes, tossing and turning for twenty five of them, when her eyes began to droop, sleep finally taking over. She was drifting between consciousness and sleep when a loud bang came at her door, the diva sitting bolt upright, chewing her lip as the bang came again. Matt Hardy had come to her door and was probably going to kill her. Her heart raced, the colour draining from her face as her eyes locked onto the door. "For Christ's sake, Lita, I know you're in there," her eyebrow took a slow rise until it was sitting somewhere near her hairline. "Now hurry up and answer this door."

It was better than Matt Hardy – she couldn't deny that – but she certainly did not want that man in her hotel room. She pushed back her covers before forcing out a quick 'I'm coming'. Passing the bathroom, she glanced in towards the mirror and rolled her eyes – she had never looked less like a wrestler in her life. Dressed in pyjamas emblazoned with 'cheeky monkey', a small pink monkey peeking round from the side and with her hair pulled back into a braid, Lita looked about fourteen years of age and the WWE's biggest player was banging on her door. Any other female would have been embarrassed by this appearance, but not Lita. She just wanted him to go.

The redhead hauled open the door to her room and stared defiantly at the man before her. "What do you want, Orton?" she asked, one hand on hip, the other rubbing at her eye sleepily.

The dark haired man towered over the short diva and pushed his way into the room, a white plastic bag in his hand and leaving behind him a distinct smell of noodles. "You didn't eat much at the restaurant – I just thought I'd get you dinner. You like Cantonese?"


	5. Chapter 5

**I own absolutely nothing. This is un beta'ed and all mistakes are my fault. Though considering this is a re-write, there really shouldnt be any...**

* * *

Randy sat on the double bed, the bag of food placed in front of him as he began unpacking it. "I got these plastic forks from the place but they don't look very, you know, reliable..." the St. Louis native said, two white packaged boxes now sitting on the red covers. He produced the plastic forks which he spoke of and showed them to the confused looking diva. "Do you have any metal ones?"

"What are you playing at, Orton?" Lita asked, one eye brow raised, her hand still placed on her hip. She glanced at the open door and, slowly, moved to close it, turning back to the wrestler on her bed once she had heard the door lock with a click. He grinned back as he opened one of the boxes and had a sniff before placing it back down on the bed, his face scrunched up.

"I'm getting you dinner, didn't I just explain that?" he said, picking up the other box and opening it, delving into the contents with a fork without even glancing at what lay inside. "That one's yours, if you wanna get started?"

"No, Orton, I mean what are you doing getting me food and acting like some bloody knight in shining armour?" The diva was relentless and made no attempt to sit down and share the food with her new 'partner'. "If I had wanted food, I'd have gotten it."

"Just thought you could do with a hand. After the whole thing with us and Matt – I saw your face Lita, you looked terrified when you looked at his face – and then…Well, we heard what happened with you and Trish…"

"How'd you know about that?"

"Victoria told Dave."

"Oh…"

"So do you want those noodles? They're just plain noodles. Mine have chicken – I didn't know if vegetarians ate chicken…"

"Pollo-vegetarians eat chicken."

"Are you one of them?"

"No."

Randy did not reply to this and, instead, wound a large portion of his chicken noodles around the unreliable fork and bundled as much as would fit into his mouth. The wrestler chewed loudly but – and Lita was thankful for this – with his mouth closed. After finishing his first bite he turned to the diva, winding yet more noodles around his fork and said, "It's gonna get cold, you know…"

"I don't want your stupid noodles, Orton," the diva replied. She knew – thanks to Dave's words from earlier that night – that Randy was 'no gentleman' and she knew he had to want something in return for the noodles. "But the question is," she swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

"I want some salt," he replied simply before glancing at the slowly bending fork. "And maybe another fork."

Lita took a deep breath before turning to stare at the door. Were they waiting outside, trying to trick her? It seemed like a very 'Evolution-esque' trick to play. "Look, Orton," she said, her attention back on the wrestler who's fork had now completely wilted, the man staring hard at the fork he had left out for the diva. "Just get out."

"Why? I try and do something nice for the newest member of Evolution and what happens? You're throwing me out of this room like I just suggested anal on a first date…"

The redhead desperately wanted to laugh but showed no outwards signs of this as she moved towards the door, opening it slowly. "Take your stupid noodles and go," she said, watching as Randy's gaze left the chicken snack and moved towards her. "I don't know who you think I am – or what kind of girl I am – but I am not going to hop into bed with you just because you buy me some cheap fucking noodles."

"Can't a gentleman just treat a lady once in a while – especially when they're going to be working together?"

"A gentleman can. You can't, not without wanting something in return."

With a scoff, Randy got to his feet and, without so much as another word, he bundled his noodles, his fork and the plastic bag together and passed through the door. Standing on the opposite side of the doorway he turned to face Lita. "You think very highly of yourself, I'll give you that," he said, shaking his head, trademark sinister smirk marring his otherwise handsome features. "But remember, darlin', you're one of us now. Like it or not, you owe us and you'll have to deal with us each and every day : Ric, Dave, Hunter, me… It would be in your best interests to keep us on your side, don't you think?"

And with that, he left.

* * *

"Lita, its me, Lilian. Please answer your phone. I need to know you're alright. Are they forcing you to do this? Are they hurting you? Why didn't you tell me? Call me, yeah? Just let me know you're safe."

* * *

"Hey Lita, Trish told me what happened between you two last night. She says you actually wanna be one of those…you wanna be associated with…those…those bastards." There was a small silence as Rob took a deep, calming breath. "Get in touch, Li. Tell me she's got it wrong…"

* * *

"So that's why you've been ignoring my calls? Who is it? Batista? Orton? Tell me it's not Hunter…Anyone but Hunter. You have my number – obviously, since you've been screening my calls – and…look, fuck it." There was a pause before the voice added, "Its Christian if you didn't know…"

* * *

"We fly into Maine on Sunday afternoon – we're staying at the Hilton. You are too."

* * *

The following Sunday came far too quickly for the redhead and, soon enough, she was stood just outside the door of Maine's central airport. The diva sighed, looking this way and that as she searched for the Evolution limo – her transport for the following few days. Maine wasn't exactly the warmest state and, considering she had been waiting for little over thirty minutes, the diva's teeth chattered as she did her best to keep warm. "Excuse me?" the voice was quiet, timid almost and, turning to see where it came from, Lita came face to face with a young boy, no older than ten and dressed in a 'We Lie, We Cheat, We Steal' shirt. "You're Lita aren't you?" The boy seemed scared to intrude but beamed at her when the newest member of Evolution smiled and nodded. "Can I have your autograph?"

Taking the kid's pen and flight ticket, the redhead signed her name elaborately. "There you go," she said, handing back the ticket after signing a final kiss. "I hope that's a used one, mister?"

Grinning shyly, the boy nodded. "My brother's called Billy," he said. "And he said you wouldn't sign my ticket. He said you were in Evolution and that you were a bitch."

"Well you can just tell Billy that he can fuck off, can't you?" Lita snapped, her anger getting the better of her. It was safe to say that she hadn't realised what she had said until she saw the boy's expression change. He was no longer timid or even smiling, he was terrified, hurt that a superstar would behave in such a way. "I'm sorry…" she called out as the young boy ran off, leaving the signature at his heels as he hurried to tell his brother that he had been right – Lita was a bitch.

And then she heard it – a clapping noise, closely followed by a low chuckle. "You really did a number on that poor kid, huh?" The voice was coming from the wound down window of a limo parked just behind her, Hunter's face grinning up at her. "Maybe you're more like us than you'd care to admit?" The diva opened her mouth to retort but the blond silenced her. "Get in. We're going for dinner."

With a roll of her eyes, Lita left her suitcase with the limo driver and slid into the seat closest to the now open door. A nod of the head from Dave and a 'hello, Princess' from Ric was the only acknowledgement or welcome she received as the car began to move. The diva wondered where this 'princess' trend had come from but, accepting that there were many names – all much worse – that they could be calling her, decided not to ask. "So where to?" she asked, the first time she had initiated conversation with the men.

"I'm feeling something spicy," said the largest man in the car. "How about Mexican?"

"Yeah and you can wash your chilli down with your Malibu, can't you?" Randy said and, for a minute, Lita was sure that he was angry. Slowly, however, a smile spread across Dave's face and he pushed at his younger friend's shoulder is a typical jocular fashion. "Fine – Mexican it is but, really man, you gotta start drinking something a little less fruity."

"I like what I like," Dave said simply. "What about you, Lita – Mexican okay with you?"

"Mhmm," she muttered, slowly remembering that these were not friends she was amongst and that she should not be so keen to let her guard down.

"She lived down there for a bit," Randy spoke over her, gaining confused looks from everyone – including Lita herself. "What? I read it in her book…" Dave and Ric seemed to accept this answer but Lita frowned. He knew much more about her than she would have liked.

"You can read?" Hunter laughed as Randy scowled back at his mentor. Once more, Lita was plagued with the urge to laugh but, instead, chewed on her lip to prevent this from showing. "You in pain or something?" Hunter asked, drawing the attention to her. Shaking her head, Lita was left alone for the duration of the car ride.

* * *

She had to admit that she had missed Mexican food : Trish and Lilian didn't enjoy any form of spice and, having never learned to cook Mexican-style, the last time the diva had eaten Quesadillas had been at Jeff Hardy's birthday, three years previous. Enjoying her cheesy meal, the diva sipped on a glass of water having refused the house wine which Ric had tried to ply her with – she had not thought it wise to drink alcohol around the members of Evolution. On the other side of the table was Randy who had worked his way through a vast chilli dish who's name he couldn't pronounce and who's size he couldn't believe and was now swinging back on his chair, beer in hand. "So where we going from here?" he asked, a wicked glint in his eye.

"I aint heading no where tonight, kid," Ric said, setting his knife and fork on his plate. "My back's been playing up this past week and if I wanna be in action at all tomorrow there'll be no dancing for me." Winking, the white-blond man pushed back his chair. "You four go on, though…"

"I'll pass tonight, too, actually," Hunter said, looking pensive. "We need to start planning, huh, Ric?" Ric nodded, leaving Lita wondering what they were planning.

"Just us three then?"

"Actually…"

"Nuh-uh – you've got to come," Randy turned to Lita, rapidly. "You've got to do everything Evolution does."

"Well its not exactly an 'Evolution' thing if only two of you are going," Lita grinned over her glass as she took a long sip.

Randy looked to his mentor, hoping he would contradict the only female of the faction. "She's got a point," he said instead, resulting in a smug smile etching itself onto Lita's pretty features. "She doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to."

Lita raised an eyebrow - as smug as she currently felt, Hunter wasn't the type of guy to agree with her or take her side. Casting a fleeting glance between Hunter and Randy, however, she was reminded of the previous Monday evening and was glad of Hunter's intervention.

"Now if everyone's finishes, I'll be getting the bill," and with that, Dave left.

"That's not fair, Hunter," Randy said in a hushed voice almost the second Dave was out of earshot. "He'll stand around, drinking that Homo-shit and I'll be left looking like one of them too…Have you seen the way he dances, Hunt? Have you?"

It would only be Randy seeing Dave's dancing that evening as Lita, Hunter and Ric all clambered into the limo, heading straight for the Hilton. Sure, the diva had stayed in nice hotels before – she wasn't exactly some cheap ass – but the Hilton, or perhaps this one in particular, was divine. The sheets were soft, the pillows plump and there was a box of chocolates waiting for her on the nightstand. _This,_ she thought as she dropped her duffle bag to the floor, re-adjusting the position of her suitcase, _is something I could definitely get used to._ "Your friends are just to the side of you, Miss," said the bell boy who had originally brought her suit case to the room. "Mister Orton is in the room to your left and Mister Batista to your right. If you need anything just dial R20 on the phone provided, that puts you straight through to the reception desk. Now is everything okay?"

The diva nodded and, leaving her alone, the bell boy closed the door behind him. It didn't take the redhead long to curl underneath the large bed covers, more comfortable than she had been in a hotel room in months. "What are you doing, Lita?" she asked herself aloud, thinking of all the voice mail messages she had received – her friends were worried, she was letting herself in for something much bigger than she could ever have imagined. "This isn't you…"

But she did not worry herself too much with this idea as she fell asleep soon after, the warmth from the covers and the comfort from the pillows dragging her into a deep slumber.

It couldn't have been that deep, however, for at twenty nine minutes past two, exactly, she was woken up by a loud – and very female – cry from the room to her left. This 'cry' was repeated, louder and louder each time and the redhead pulled the pillow over her head. Just as she was losing the will to live – and contemplating ending Randy and his new found 'friend's' life – it stopped with a guttural groan from her new 'partner'. Silence now on both sides of the wall, Lita found herself returning to her state of slumber.

Just over four hours later – at seven o'clock – the redhead's eyes shot open and she pressed the 'end alarm' button on her iPod. Motorhead was not a band she was particularly fond of – even less so since she had joined 'Evolution' – but she was even less fond of them when they were her morning alarm. She went about her morning routine - her showering, moisturising and, finally, dressing – without a hitch until, when pulling on a pair of grey socks, she noticed a white paper on the floor, as though it had been pushed through under the door.

The redhead moved towards it and slowly picked it up. The paper bore the Hilton header on the paper and any hopes that it had been from Trish were soon gone. Instead of Trish's neat script, with it's I's and J's dotted with love hearts was one word, an untidy scrawl reading : **Jealous?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Again, I own nothing and everything is my own fault.**

* * *

She turned the note over in her hand and, for a moment (which was over as quickly as it started), she wondered who on Earth could have pushed it under her door. It could not be said, however, that Lita was a stupid woman and, as if a switch had been turned on, she heard a replay from the previous night: 'Oh, Randy.' The redhead crumpled the paper in her hand and forced it into the back pocket of her jeans. Smoothing down her hair and checking her reflection in the mirror one last time, the diva left the room and headed down for breakfast. There would be time to question Randy and his motives later, for now, she was too hungry to think about the Legend Killer.

When the diva arrived in the breakfast area, she was pleased to see that she was the only WWE performer there – most wrestlers checked themselves into small scale hotels, usually quite far from the arena, so that fans wouldn't bother them. Taking a plate, she headed straight to the breakfast buffet table where she piled it high with croissants, muffins, bread and butter and since she, like every other health conscious wrestler, was watching her weight, she added a couple of slices of watermelon. The diva ate in silence as she read over a copy of the local newspaper – the only available form of reading – and was glad of the calming period. There was no one hassling her and asking her 'why?' and there was no one bothering her, giving her deadlines. She was finishing up her watermelon, dabbing at her lips with her napkin when the chair to her right was pulled out with a screech, a familiar blonde face sliding into view. Lita sighed, looking away. "You cant even look at me now?" the voice was soft and the diva detected hurt with every word. "First you ignore my calls and now you wont look at me? I thought you were better than that."

The redhead didn't know how to respond to her friend's words and so she didn't, replying with a question of her own. "How did you know where I was?"

"Please – everyone knows Evolution only ever stay at the Hilton. What is it they say – 'Only the best, for the best'? I even got your hotel room number," Lita looked down to see a piece of paper in her friend's hand and raised an eyebrow. "How'd I get it? Us announcers are just as influential as you divas. Plus, stage hands and executives are much more willing to give me details about superstars than any of you lot. They know I'm not gonna go to the hotel room with a sledge hammer, you know?" But the smile fell from Lilian's lips just seconds after it arrived. "But that's your game now, huh?"

"Lil…"

"Don't bother, Lita. If you're even half the friend I thought you were, you would have returned my calls. Or even just one of them," the blonde shook her head and, for the first time, Lita was certain that there was a snarl on the usually smiling announcer's face. "All I wanted was for you to call and say 'Lilian – calm down. I'm fine.' but you never did. Now I am _not _leaving until you tell me what's going on! Why are you with them, Lita? What's happened?"

There was no denying the redhead was shocked and, for a second, she simply blinked in response. When she finally spoke, her voice was subdued, even weak. "I just wanna say I'm sorry," she looked up and, for the first time, she caught Lilian's eye. "I needed to…I had no other choice. They got me my job back." She was certain that Lilian could sympathize with this, knowing she loved her job as much as she did. But her certainty was tested when the blonde rolled her eyes.

"We could have gotten you you're job back too!" What Lita had mistaken for anger earlier cracked through and proved itself to be hurt.

"Could you really have, Lilian? I know Christian promised to use that favour he had and everything…But think about it. No one has more power in the WWE than Evolution – Hunter has Eric Bischoff eating from the palm of his hand – but even they had trouble getting me my job back…" There was no harm fabricating the truth, the diva thought to herself, though the fact that she was already lying to one of her best friends was nagging at her. "It's not ideal, Lilian, I know…But I need my job and they were my only option…I needed to take it."

"More than you need your friends?"

"It shouldn't have to be a choice between the two."

"What do you mean – 'it shouldn't have to be a choice?' – are you for real? This is Evolution we're talking about, Lita. Evolution. You remember them, don't you? They're the guys who attack innocent people, who hurt people, who electrocuted Goldust because he didn't know where Scott Steiner was. And these are the people you're associating with. Lita…These are the guys who insulted your intelligence, your integrity – they called you a prostitute and now you're best buddies with them?"

Lita did her best to remain composed but she had to admit that it was difficult with Lilian rhyming off all of the evil and twisted things that they had done, things which had angered her in the past. "Like I said, Lilian, it's not ideal…"

"But you're sticking with it, aren't you?" Lilian ran her bottom lip through her teeth, not ready to believe that her friend – the one who had been the biggest activist during their 'anti-Evolution' conversations – was willing to forget everything she had said in the past and join forces with the four men she had always claimed to despise.

"I am."

She had never thought something like this would affect her in the way it did but Lilian felt a wave of emotion hit her. "I understand," she said, her voice clearly verging on breaking as she pushed her chair back and got to her feet. "Well, really, I don't. But you're a friend and, for that, I'll stick by you. Evolution and all. I'm not going to pretend I like it. But I'm here…"

Lilian, now on her feet, forced her lips into a weak smile and turned on her heel, leaving the breakfast area and the hotel completely. Lita sighed and let her head loll backwards as she cursed herself inwardly. Lilian was such a good friend, always looking out for her and even coming all the way to the hotel to see her. She was even willing to 'stick by her' even though she was a member of Evolution. But the question was, would Triple H let Lita stick by Lilian? It was what Lita was pondering when she heard Lilian's voice again, a sharp cry of, "Get your hands off me, asshole!" which caused Lita to jump to her feet.

"I'm only playin' sweetcheeks. I prefer class over trash anyway…" Lita got to the opening of the breakfast are just in time to see Lilian, still in the lobby of the hotel, pulling at the hem of her skirt and glaring at Hunter, who was facing her with an almost evil grin on his face. She was questioning whether she should say something, whether she should tell Hunter to leave her friend alone when Lilian turned away from the champion and looked Lita directly in the eye. This is the type of guy you're associating with, her eyes seemed to say and, rather than argue with her, Lita turned her back on Lilian and Hunter and headed back inside.

Taking her previously vacated seat, Lita ran a hand over her face. In all of ten minutes she had lied to someone she considered one of her best friends and now she had turned her back on her, too. "Fucking tease," she heard Hunter say as he made his way over to her table, Ric following closely at his heels. The two men took seats at her table and the diva was surprised to see that there was no food. "Why do you look your dog just got shot?" Hunter said, his voice void of emotion as he turned to stare at Lita.

"Lilian's my friend," she said, her voice regaining some of its usual tenacity. "You have no right to just…just go around groping women like that."

"She wanted it," Hunter said with a smirk, snaffling one of Lita's muffins from her plate. She hadn't had a chance to hit the sugary items before Lilian had arrived... "Walking around in the short skirts, high heels…She's just asking for it…"

"Oh god, and here comes the typical he-man answer. We're not in the caves any more Hunter," with a roll of her eyes, Lita shook her head. She would just have to speak to Lilian at Raw that evening because there was nothing she could do about her now. "But seriously – lay off Lilian. Do whatever you want to anyone else. Just, leave her alone, okay? She's my friend…" The nagging voice inside her head told her that she was simply trying to convince herself of this fact but, with another shake of her head, she tried to silence it.

"Lita, Lita, Lita," Ric said, his voice almost fatherly – something which worried Lita. "When you're in Evolution, Evolution is everything. We're your friends, we're your family. And outside Evolution, you have nothing. Outsiders only bring you down. They get in your head, they convince you we're not there for you and they manipulate you. You don't need them Lita. You just need us. Us and us alone."

Lita didn't reply.

"All for one and one for all, Lita – that's how we think. You start relying on others outside the group, you break the circle of trust…We thought, when you agreed to this little set-up, that you understood that. If you didn't then perhaps you'll have to think of another way of keeping Hardy off your back because I can tell you right now, he's gonna be pretty pissed off after what you did to him last week," Hunter spoke simply, his eyes glistening with malice as they bore into Lita's hazel ones. "Now, what's the eggs like in this place?"

The diva sat in silence, picking at the food she hadn't had time to eat while Hunter wolfed down a plate of eggs large enough to feed half the roster. Ric sipped on a coffee – black, of course – and ran his eyes over the headlines of the news paper. It was a silent affair, save for Hunter's chewing until Dave arrived, immaculately dressed in a sparkling white vest which told Lita is was brand new and a pair of tight jeans. There were small, dark glasses shielding his eyes and this, for the diva, was the only sign that he had been drinking the night before. "You want a coffee, big man?" Ric asked before the Philippine had taken his seat. The silent nod he gave sent Ric to his feet, rushing to get the younger man a coffee.

"Big night last night?" Hunter asked between large mouthfuls of his eggs.

Lita expected another silent nod but, instead, Dave cleared his throat. "Sure was," he said and, surprisingly, he didn't sound as though he were suffering from a hangover. "Even bigger night for Orton, though."

"Why's that?" asked Ric, returning with a second black coffee which he placed in front of the new arrival to the table.

"You shoulda seen the chicks he picked up, last night," even behind his glasses, Lita could see that Dave's eyes were impressed. "Twins. Man, they had the sweetest tits I've ever seen…"

"So is that where he is just now then? Kicking them out of bed?"

"I think he did that a while ago," Lita input.

"And why's that?" Hunter raised an eyebrow in her direction.

The redhead swallowed. She could hardly say 'because he shoved a note saying Jealous? Under my door this morning' for she wasn't even sure it was him. "I heard his door earlier. Figured he was kicking the girl out."

"You knew there was a girl?" Hunter raised an eyebrow once more, intent on ribbing Lita about a 'crush' she may or may not have had on the Legend Killer.

"The whole hotel knew there was a girl, actually," Lita said with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously – there is no need for that kind of noise."

"If you can hear me, you're not getting any action yourself. Are you gonna eat that croissant?" said a voice from behind her as a large hand wrapped around her shoulder and plucked a lonely croissant – the last item on her plate – from under her nose. Lita's lip curled in disgust towards the youngest person at the table. He pulled a chair over to the now crowded table and began to bite into the croissant, sending small flakes of the pastry everywhere. "And besides," he said, covering his mouth so as not to spray his friends – and Lita – with crumbs. "I don't recall Claudia and Kirstin being that loud…"

"You might not…But believe me, I do. If I had to hear one more pig-like squeal of," Lita put on a rather high pitched voice, an imitation of the voice of the girl – or at least one of them – from the night before. "'Oh Randy' I was going to kill myself. Or you. Preferably you. And, next time, ask before you take my food. Not while."

"So, Claudia and Kirstin, huh?" Hunter asked, a smirk playing at his lips. He could tell that this topic of conversation was bothering Lita. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were anywhere but Randy.

What a fucking idiot, she thought to herself. Typical little boy, boasting about his conquests…He's so pathetic. But I need to have a word with him, a private word about that note…

"I swear to god, they wanted it man. And I was more than happy to oblige," Randy winked in Lita's direction, knowing he was aggravating the woman.

"Well next time," Lita grumbled. "I'm bringing ear plugs."

"Next time, darlin'," Randy said, speaking breathily as her leaned into Lita's ear. "It could be you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Two chapters in the one day again. Im getting closer to a new one :D!**

* * *

She had always been early to shows – well, except for last week when she had arrived after the rush, to avoid being seen – and so it felt strange to pull into the parking lot of the arena just as the credits finished rolling, Terri waiting at the side, microphone clutched to her chest as she rocked on the balls of her feet, eager to interview the newest member of Evolution to kick off the latest episode of Raw. The redhead frowned as the dark shadow of the chauffeur blocked the tinted windows temporarily, the door opening to show a stocky man in a ill-fitting cap. Dave slid out of the car first, closely followed by Ric and then Hunter and Randy, respectively. Randy held out his hand to Lita in an attempt to help her from the car but, snubbing the younger man, she reached out intentionally for Hunter's and, grasping it, she pulled herself from the car. "Lita! Lita!" Terri's voice was high pitched and whiny as she tottered over in six inch heels, her tight leather skirt riding up her thigh and causing no one but Ric to look in that direction. "Lita! The Raw fans want to know : why did you choose to join Evolution?"

Lita took a deep breath and braced herself, squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up to full height. The other four seemed so relaxed, so used to this type of thing. She, on the other hand, was sweating buckets. "Do I answer her?" she asked, her lips barely moving as she spoke. Hunter moved his arm so that he stood almost protectively in front of her. He shook his head in such a small way that Lita was certain no one else had seen it. Pursing her lips, the diva moved to the 'inside' of the four men, creating a blockade between herself and the interviewer.

"Lita! Do you believe that this is the only way you can get a title shot?" Terri asked, trying to get some sort of reaction – any kind of reaction – from the redhead. And a reaction was exactly what she got. _So this is what the WWE fans are thinking?_ _That this was why she had joined Evolution? _The diva stopped walking, lagging back as the four men took a step forward. For a second, she considered punching the shorter woman, showing her exactly why she deserved a title shot. But she didn't. She was better than that. She could handle this. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Lita clenched her fists. The wave of anger seemed to wash over her, however, and, running a hand through her long hair, she began to walk again, catching up with the men who had stopped to wait for her.

"I thought you were really gonna hit her," Randy said as the diva fell into step with her new found 'friends' once more. "I mean, it would have been fun and all but…You know…Evolution's all about the class."

"Says the man who spit in Mick Foley's face…"

* * *

Backstage, the WWE divas and superstars were buzzing. For one night only, the matches would be decided using a huge roulette wheel for with everything from 'Las Vegas Showgirls Match' to 'Tables, Ladders and Chairs' as options on the wheel. Hunter, however, was not impressed and, leaving Dave, Randy and Lita in the Evolution dressing room, he and Ric hurried off to inform Eric Bischoff that they would, under no circumstances, take part in any silly matches which could ruin their reputation. The last time they had used this idea, Hunter had been lucky enough to have a simple 'Blindfold match' but he could remember the Paddle on a Pole match options and he could not imagine Randy Orton spanking his opponent with a paddle would go down well. Instead, he was off to make some 'adjustments' to this roulette wheel.

"So we're all in action tonight, huh?" Randy said, his eyes rolling over that evenings line up – while they hadn't been giving the match types, Eric Bischoff had informed every superstar just who would and wouldn't be wrestling. "You and Victoria, Lita. Wonder who Dave'll be supporting there, huh?" Dave glared at the younger man over his tiny sunglasses. There was no denying that he and the slightly psychotic diva had had a 'thing' as of late but The Animal did not enjoy being teased. "You and Ric, too…Jericho and HBK – nice. Hunter and Goldberg - no surprises there. And my opponents undisclosed…" Randy looked up, looking confused for a moment. "Hunter'll know who it is." He concluded simply, tossing the paper to his side on the sofa. "Not that it matters…"

"Do you ever stop?" Lita found herself asking. "If you're not talking, you're eating. If you're not eating, you're talking. Stop. Seriously. You're worse than a child! Although, considering you're barely out of puberty…"

Dave snorted, causing his younger friend and the female he was currently being reprimanded by to stare at him. "I gotta go get some water," he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he got to his feet, tucking his shirt back into his trousers to show off the expensive leather belt he wore around them and left the locker room, the door making a definite click as it locked once more.

"Finally," Lita said exasperated as she began fumbling around in her back pocket, trying to retrieve the note from that morning.

"What? You've been waiting for them to leave so you can have your wicked way with me? I mean that's all fine and well and I sure as hell aint complaining, Princess. But considering you just said I'm borderline pubescent…Doesn't that make you somewhat of a paedophile?"

Lita stopped fumbling with the receipts and dollar bill which had made their way into the pocket and looked up. He wasn't as stupid as he looked, it appeared, but there was no time to think about that. Retrieving the note, she threw it in his direction, the paper flapping and falling at his feet. "You wanna explain that?"

"Gravity." He replied, not making an attempt to pick up the piece of paper. "What goes up must go down."

"I meant what's on the paper, dumbfuck. Pick it up. Read it."

Randy smirked in her direction, knowing exactly what was written on the note in front of him. He had written it when he was 'escorting' Claudia and Kirstin from his room – they had been nice enough girls but it was seven o'clock in the morning, meaning they had overstayed their welcome by a good few hours. The Legend Killer pulled himself forward and plucked the note from the ground, smoothing out the creases as he opened it. "Jealous?" he read aloud and Lita stared. It had been that exact voice, that exact tone that she had imagined he would use. He leaned back again and lazily crossed one leg over the other. "Well – were you?"

"So it was you?" Lita was stunned – she hadn't expected him to admit it so instantly. In fact, she had been more than prepared to question him all night, him fervently denying it.

"What was?"

"The note."

"What about it?"

"You wrote it."

Randy's eyebrow made its way towards his hairline as he questioned, "Did I?"

Lita glared in his direction – she should have known it would be too good to be true. There was no way he would admit something so readily. Chewing on her lip, she said calmly, "I wasn't, if I'm honest. The girls were faking it – a woman can tell these things – and I gave up having to do that when Matt and I broke up."

The colour drained from the self proclaimed Legend Killer's face and it was her turn to smirk. If working with Matt and Jeff had taught her anything it was that a man's pride was firmly rooted in his masculinity. Take that away from him and, well, he crumbled – much like Orton had just done. Watching the young man, she leaned across, taking the list of match-ups from Randy's side. Grinning, she began to read it as silence fell between them.

_Two divas' matches in one night? _She thought to herself, ignoring the strange pain she felt in her chest when she read her former best friend's name. _Bischoff must be high. _"So what do you say, kid?" She had been so engrossed in reading over the matches, she hadn't heard Ric and Hunter return. "You and slaughter – a Legend Killer match."

"That's not one bit corrupt, is it?" Lita replied with a role of her eyes. "'The Legend Killer' is going to have his spin of the wheel land on 'Legend Killer Match'…Its pathetic…"

"So you don't want the Steel Cage match I organised for you? Bischoff was planning to put you in for a Mudfight but, hey, if you'd rather do that…" Her criticism wouldn't cause Hunter any sleepless nights – he knew how to get around women and Lita was no different it seemed.

"A Steel Cage Match?" Her hand instinctively found its way to the back of her neck and she rubbed softly. "That sounds perfect."

"Not corrupt when it gets you what you want, is it?" The current champion teased, taking off his suit jacket and carefully placing it over the back of the sofa. "Your match is up first – you should go and get ready."

The diva nodded silently, doing her best to keep her hand from creeping back up to her neck. "I'll just go get dressed."

* * *

The redhead bounced on the balls of her feet, peeking through a small gap in the curtain as 'All the things she said' by T.A.T.U blasted through the speakers, the baseline shaking the ground she stood on. Victoria was only halfway down the ramp, posing as the fans stared on. Who would they cheer for? Victoria, the typical heel? Or Lita, one fifth of the company's most dominant – albeit ruthless – stable? "You okay?" the voice was breathy and close to her ear. Feeling cold fingertips against her forearm, the redhead stopped her bouncing motion. "I know I aint your favourite person right now…But the note was just a joke."

"Whatever, Randy, I have a match and I really should be heading out there right now…" The music which currently played stopped and, for the first time, she heard the fans cheer Victoria. Her heart began to beat irregularly. She was going to be booed.

"Look, I'm just saying that if you need me down there, I will be…"

The familiar song – which Lita had come to associate with Evolution – began to play and the diva turned to stare at Randy. She didn't even have her own ring song any more. "Why would I need you?" she spat, angrily and stormed through the curtain, leaving it flapping behind her and making her way to the ring as quickly as possible in an effort to stop 'Line In The Hand' from playing any longer than it needed to.

Randy watched through the same gap in the curtain Lita had vacated as the steel cage began to lower around the ring. Lita chewed on her thumb nail, looking up towards 'the third member of the match' as JR called it. The other hand rubbed the back of her neck once more and Randy found himself chewing on the inside of his lip : there was a predatory look on Victoria's face that couldn't be matched by another diva. The raven haired diva wasted no time, tackling Lita before the steel cage had even reached the edge of the ring. For the first few minutes, the two tussled and fought using dropkicks, DDT's and every other moves in their arsenal – including a few dirty ones on Victoria's part. Randy shook his head – he had been stupid to think that Lita would actually need his help; she could handle herself better than most and it wasn't like he would actually be able to help her against Victoria. He was a lot of things but his mother had brought him up well – a man never hit a woman. And, besides that, he was certain that Dave would beat him within an inch of his life if he touched his precious 'Vicky'.

The twenty three year old laughed as he watched Victoria, unable to move as Lita crawled slowly towards the door. There wasn't much point waiting now, he thought to himself, as he turned his back on the curtain, making his way back to the Evolution locker room. She would only complain – or worse, tease him – if she knew he waited like some sort of mother hen. His hand had just reached the cold metal of the door handle, when the door was hauled open; Dave Batista sprinting past him, Ric Flair hot on his heels. "What's going on?" he called, but received no answer. At least not from those two – instead, his reply came from Triple H who, sledgehammer in hand, came swaggering from the locker room.

"Hardy." Hunter replied simply, looking murderous.


	8. Chapter 8

**Only two more chapters needing re-written/beta'd after this one. Then its on to the magic number 11.**

**As always, if you have any questions, input, ideas or criticism just drop me a review and I'll get back to you :D**

**Kimberly xx**

* * *

Matt Hardy was, above all else, a very stupid man. Yes, he could spell 'onomatopoeia' and he could do long division in his head, he knew the majority of the periodic table of elements and he knew more than was considered healthy about the second world war. But this didn't make him intelligent. An intelligent man would have known that, after smashing a steel cage into Lita's face, Evolution would come gunning for you. But not Matt. Matt stood at the top of the ramp, gloating as he smirked down at Lita who, still behind the cage, was still yet to get back at up. Victoria stood by the cage, Earl Hebner holding her hand up in victory. The raven haired diva looked fearful, glancing back into the ring every few seconds. Yes, she disliked the woman in the ring but at the same time… Dropping Earl's hand, Victoria clambered back into the ring, through the metal door and reached down to help Lita up.

As the redhead reached towards her competitor, her hand closing around the other woman's, Dave Batista's hands connected with Matt Hardy's face, the smaller man falling to the ground instantly. Victoria held on to Lita's hand although she was no longer staring at the slightly smaller diva; her eyes were trained on Dave and Matt as Evolutions 'Animal' and The Nature Boy pummelled into the North Carolina native. The ravenette diva found it highly ironic that the fans were actually cheering Evolution and continued to stare blindly at the scene unfolding in front of her. She pulled the redhead to her feet with all her might and, for a second, the two stood staring, mouth open, at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Neither woman moved.

That was until Hunter and Randy arrived, the blond still carrying his sledgehammer, a glimmer of brass knuckles playing on Randy's hand. Lita sprinted, almost falling through the ropes in her haste as she tried to make it up the ramp. She was dizzy, her vision blurred and the ringing sound in her ears was convincing her that she was suffering a bad case of tinnitus but she knew for a fact that she couldn't let this happen. "Stop!" she screamed, but no one seemed to hear her. She watched as Batista hauled her ex boyfriend onto his knees, lining him up for whatever brutal shot Hunter or Randy was willing to throw his way. As Randy's hand drew back, Lita became level and reached out, grabbing at the hand which, had she been a second later, would have easily broken Matt's nose. She caught onto his wrist and held as tightly as she could, scared that if she let go it would be the end of Matt.

"What are you doing, Lita?" Randy growled, causing Lita to stare up at him, confused. She thought that it was perfectly obvious what she was doing – she was stopping him attacking Matt Hardy. "Look what he did to you…"

"Please…Stop…" There was something about Matt – something she couldn't put her finger on – but she had always felt the overwhelming urge to protect him. Even now, after he had tried to knock her unconscious, after he had lost her job, after everything. "Please…" The muscles in the arm she was holding seemed to soften, Randy's arm starting to lag as he lowered the limb, the brass knuckles slipping down his fingers.

"Out of my way," Hunter barked, smashing the sledgehammer into Matt's face, blood spurting in all directions as, once more, the North Carolina native fell to the ground.

* * *

"What was that all about, Orton? Hmm?" Hunter was irate. So far, he had kicked over three bins on the way back to the locker room, threw a plant across said locker room and was now staring menacingly at his young prodigy, tempted to hit him with the glass water bottle in his hand. "You went fucking soft!"

"I couldn't do it," Randy replied, his voice barely audible as he stared into his hands, turning the brass knuckles over repeatedly. "She was begging me not to…She…She's one of us Hunt – I couldn't do that to her."

"EXACTLY!" Hunter exploded and Ric and Dave, too, stared at him. "She's one of us. That's my point exactly. When he attacked her, he attacked us, Randy. This is all about pride, kid. Fuck what the broad wants."

"So it wasn't about her getting hurt?"

"It was about us being attacked." Randy raised an eyebrow – he wanted to question his mentor's motives but there was a tiny nagging voice (which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like Hunter's) telling him that it was unwise to question it. Triple H had always said that Evolution was all about looking after each other but, clearly, it wasn't. "Look, Randy," he tried to reason – it was wise to keep all members of the faction on your side at all times – with the younger man. "I know you wanna play the knight in shining armour but she's totally blinded by him. We did the right thing sorting him out. He attacked her, Randy. He hurt her. She's one of us, we were being attacked. We had to retaliate. We can't afford to go all weak because of some broad…"

Randy nodded as reassuringly as he could. What had he been thinking anyway? This wasn't some stupid game – this was about their careers! They couldn't show weakness of any sort; not with Hardy and, certainly, not with Lita. The St. Louis native got to his feet and began to roll his shoulders. His match was up next and he couldn't be bothering himself with worries about Lita and that stupid Hardy. Drawing himself up to full height, Randy pulled the Evolution ht-shirt, splattered with Matt Hardy's blood, from his chest, throwing it in the bin. "So I'll see you out there?" he said with a nod to Ric. It was almost customary that the 'Legend Killer' didn't fight alone but, tonight, that would change.

"Actually, kid," Ric started. "I got my own match tonight – with the Big Man. I gotta get ready for it and warm up. We thought Lita woulda been at ringside for you but she…"

"Locked herself in a toilet and refuses to speak to any of us. I noticed." And with that, Randy found himself laughing. He was really gonna cause problems and behave like a child because there was no one at ringside? He didn't need anyone at ringside to defeat some old timer like Sergeant Slaughter! He was more than capable of doing that himself. "Well, I'ma head out to the curtain and get ready. See you after the match." Making an 'aye, aye captain' motion towards the other three men in the room, Randy forgot all about the stupid altercation with Hardy, his momentary show of weakness and, for a second, he forgot all about Lita.

* * *

It was much harder this time. She should have known that Matt wouldn't give up so easily – not after the way Evolution had brutalised him – and she should have expected him to make a show. Randy had expected it, she could see that now and, deep down, she knew that she should have just let him come to the ring with her. Her face wouldn't hurt half as much if she had. Things would be very different if she just let Randy do what he wanted.

She heard the handle of the door turn, the wooden block moving from its frame and footsteps enter the small toilet. "Lita?" she heard a voice – a female voice! – call. "Lita are you in there? Oh, what am I saying; of course you are…Lita…Lita come out…" It wasn't Trish and it sure as hell wasn't Lilian. "Come on." It was Victoria. How could she trust a woman she had just wrestled with? Who was to say that she wasn't going to smack her face into the sink or hit her around the face with the title belt? "Lita, please…Are you okay?"

The redhead braced herself as she slid back the catch on the door. If she was going to go out there, she was going out ready. The door creaked open, slowly, as the redhead's face appeared between the wall and the door. "Oh, look at you," Victoria said, softly. There was no title belt clutched in her hands, no menacing look in her eyes. Instead, all that stood there was a woman with damp curls, dressed in baggy sweats and a Royal Rumble shirt. Her eyes were trained on the splatter of red across Lita's grey pants, her white shirt and across the pale skin of her arms. "Have you got a change of clothes with you?" Lita nodded in a catatonic way, looking blank. "Is it in the Evolution locker room?" Another nod. "I'll go get it. You sit on the sink – I'll put up a maintenance sign and no-one will come in here – and I'll be right back."

Victoria left the toilet after patting the redhead's hand – she wasn't exactly used to consoling people and she didn't know the correct words, the correct touches to give. Hell, she didn't even like the woman she was consoling - but someone had to. The raven haired diva took the 'Out of Order' sign from the men's lavatory and placed it on the door of the female one. That would stop people from going in there. Taking a deep breath, the Women's Champion made her way to foreign territory – sure, she and Dave had a sort of 'thing' going on (for one was never sure what to call these sorts of 'affairs') but she had never been inside the Evolution locker room. Walking along the corridor, she went largely unnoticed but, when she reached the actual locker room, she stopped, causing people to stare. No one ever had the balls to go to the Evolution locker room. Her palms were sweaty now – an uncommon feeling for the usually calm 'Psycho Diva' (even in her worst states; she was always in control) – and she found herself running both hands through her hair repeatedly.

There was no point in knocking the door, she thought as she turned the handle. Dave Batista sat alone, slumped in one of the two black leather sofas in the room. The large man looked over up with a start only to soften upon seeing Victoria's face. "Couldn't wait for tonight?" He said with a smirk and, for a second, the diva felt a red hot blush creep into her cheeks.

"I'm here to get Lita's things – thanks to that fucking idiot you guys follow, Matt Hardy's blood is all over her clothes," she spoke with disdain about the leader of Evolution. "Where's her bag, Dave?" Dave pointed to a black duffel bag lying on the mini cooler. "You think he was right, don't you?" She asked, shaking her head as she picked the bag up and, at the same time, removing two bottles of water from the cooler.

"I didn't say that, Vicky."

"No, but you do. I can tell. You agree with him. After Lita begged you guys not to…"

"She begged Orton. Not us. We did what we had to do, Vicky." Dave reached his hand out, inviting the female champion to join him on the sofa. She declined, bundling up the water, Lita's bag and the only female jacket in the room. "Don't be like this Vic – we did what we had to do. We taught Hardy a lesson. He knows not to mess with Evolution again."

"Well clearly he doesn't see Lita as a member of Evolution – you messed him up last week and he came back tonight. What makes you think he wont next week? You're just thugs, Dave. Lita is in that bathroom, crying her heart out because Hunter totally disregarded her wishes. I never thought I'd say this but Orton's the only human…"

"Yeah, he's so human he invited her to join Raw hoping for a bit of 'gratitude'." Dave snapped. How dare she insult them? They had done what was right and yet here she was praising some pansy assed motherfucker for going soft? The diva's jaw fell, slightly. "That's right – this was never about 'all four belts', this was never about her getting her job back. This was about Orton wanting to fuck her. So forgive me if I don't quite agree with your little statement. Not get the hell out of our locker room – you're not fit to be in here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note : Will hopefully have chapters 9 and 10 done long before 'Mania, then you guys will have another few days wait before the all new chapter 11 :D(maybe even on SUNDAY!) So excited to finally start a new chapter!**

* * *

As Victoria walked back to the lavatory, she could honestly say she wasn't surprised at Dave's 'bombshell'. While, at first, it had disgusted her, it now made perfect sense. Randy Orton was a pathetic little boy who thought with his dick – every diva knew that and, apart from two shapely blondes, most had steered clear of the up and coming wrestler – but he wasn't unintelligent. He knew there was no way of getting Lita into bed – his good looks and winning smile wouldn't go over well with her and he couldn't use any of his sweet talk to charm her; so what other option did he have? _It wouldn't surprise me,_ she thought to herself, scraping her bangs back as she juggled between the bag, the jacket and the water bottles, _if he had played a part in Lita's sacking as well as her re-hiring. It's not like Evolution wouldn't pull a stunt like that…_

The sign on the ladies' bathroom was, she was pleased to see, still where she had put it and, turning the handle with her elbow, she opened the door and let herself in again. The red-headed diva was perched against the sink, the sink bowl pressing against her lower back. Her eyes were trained on her shirt, which she had pulled out from her body. The white, stretch material had a red splatter from Matt's face all down one side. She had tried to turn away, to shield herself from viewing Hunter's attack but she hadn't moved quick enough and most of the spray from the North Carolina native's face had hit her and Randy. Swallowing hard, the redhead let go of the shirt, the material springing back to cling at her skin. "I got your stuff," Victoria said, not knowing what else to say. She held a bottle of water out first, allowing the diva to take a long sip before handing over her other things. "Now you go and get changed, and I'll wait out here." There was no need to tell her what Dave had said to her – she wasn't a stupid woman and, anyway, she wasn't likely to fall for that idiot's womanising ways.

* * *

It was an unconventional match to say the least and a rather short one at that. In the short space of time they had been in the ring, Sergeant Slaughter had hit his signature move twice and, yet, it was Randy who stood victorious, hand raised in victory. Sure, he could have stopped there – he should have stopped there – but there was something (that little voice which sounded a lot like Hunter) which was telling him to go further; to show everyone just why Evolution was at the top of the game.

And so he took the older man's head in his hand and pulled him to his feet before pummelling his fists down into his face. He was enjoying it now, as fist after fist rained down on the Legend's face. Unfortunately for him, however, his 'fun' was cut short as the crowd began to scream; a chant of 'RVD' breaking out. Randy turned round as fast he could, only to connect with Rob Van Dam's fist. The next thing he knew, Rob was standing above him, perched on the top rope, fully prepared to hurtle himself at the younger man. _There's no way,_ thought Randy as he scuttled hastily from the ring, tail firmly between his legs, _that I'm taking the Frogsplash._ He walked backwards up the ring, his eyes glued on the Battle Creek native. "Stupid bastard," he muttered, barely blinking. As he reached the top of the ramp, his lips curled into a sinister grin as, opening his arms into what had become a 'signature pose'. Rob stared up from the ring, having pulled Slaughter to his feet, his arm now wrapped around the elder man's shoulder.

By the time he reached the back, just past the curtain, Randy was livid. How dare Rob Van Dam interfere in his match? What did it have to do with him anyway? Unconsciously, the third generation superstar found himself walking not in the direction of the Evolution locker room, where he was due to return, but to the bathroom where Evolution's newest member was currently holed up. It was a silly move and one that, had he been thinking correctly, he would not have made. It didn't take him long to find himself facing an 'Out of Order' sign. He raised his hand, his fingers ready to rap the door but, at the last moment, changed his mind and opened the door without warning.

Victoria was propped against the sink, Lita standing in front of her. Her mascara was smudged but she looked better than she had done last time he had seen her. "You okay?" he asked simply, running a hand over his short, dark hair. The redhead looked up, unspeaking and her eyes blank. But she nodded – minutely as it was, she nodded. Randy nodded back and was contemplating what he should say – should he apologise, for, technically, he had done nothing wrong? Should he ask her to return to the Evolution locker room? – when he felt Victoria's hand on his chest, pushing him out of the bathroom. "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa." He said, hands held up in defence. "What do you think you're doing?"

"She doesn't need assholes like you right now," Victoria said, drawing herself up to full height. "Unless you had forgotten," she hissed, her eyes narrowed towards the third generation superstar. She closed the door behind her, sighing as Lita's face became hidden from view. "Unless you had forgotten, it was your buddies who got her into that mess, jackass."

"Exactly," Randy said, leaning across the diva to push the door open again but, once more, she pushed at his chest. "Like you said – it was my 'buddies' – not me. So just let me have a word with her and then we can head back to the locker room and you can…crawl back to your web or wherever it is you and Dave hang."

The so-called 'Psycho Diva' let out an angry noise from the back of her throat and raked her hands through her hair, tugging at the bottoms. She took a deep breath, stared defiantly into Orton's eyes and, with an angry cry of "Men!" she disappeared behind the door. Hearing a bang, Randy assumed the diva had barricaded the door – with what, he did not know – and began his slow descent back to the Evolution locker room. Ric would be looking for him, by now. Hunter's match was coming soon and, no doubt, there would be some sort of ridiculous pep talk which he would have to sit through.

"He's not so bad, you know," Lita said and, while her voice was still breathy and far away, it no longer sounded lifeless, as it had done before. "Randy. He's nice to me. At least when Hunter's not there…When Hunter's there he turns into this…This…Pervert." Her mind was screaming Dave Batista's words at her – 'Why don't you ask Stacy what a real gentleman he is?' – but she pushed this to the back of her mind as she stared at the raven haired diva in front of her. "I should have just gone with him…"

Victoria's eyes snapped up. This was why she hated the divas she worked with – they were all so quick to jump into the arms of the first wrestler – but, of course, she had always thought that Lita was different. Sure, there had been the incident with Matt and whatnot but they were in love – they had been, at the time, anyway – and yet, here she was, offering to chase after Randy Fucking Orton. Her fingers tugged at the ends of her hair once more and she exhaled, loudly. "That's it – just give up. Just chase after Evolution. They only put you here in the first place…" Letting go of her hair, the raven haired diva looked up at the woman she had wrestled with that evening. Should she tell her what Dave had said to her – letting the diva know that Randy Orton was 'so bad' – but she thought better of it. She was wasting her time with Lita, with all of the divas and she had been wasting her time with that low-life Dave. In fact, she had been wasting her time ever since she and Stevie Richards had parted ways. Stevie…She had been thinking about him a lot over the past week and she couldn't help but sigh at the thought of him. "Actually," she said, opening the door. "Go after him. Do what you want. But you'll get everything you deserve. Men like Randy – men like Evolution – don't do anything for free. The ones who do – the guys that come once in a lifetime – you gotta hold on tight. You cant scare them off like I did…" And, with a ragged sniff, the 'Psycho Diva' left the small bathroom.

* * *

"He'll be here, champ: you know what the kid's like. He probably seen a hot bit of skirt in the crowd and now he's busy trying to get her backstage," Ric Flair reasoned. Sat on one of the two sofas in the room, he pushed the sleeves of his Armani suit up and stared at Triple H who, sitting opposite him, was busy taping up his fingers. "You ain't worried that Van Dam caught up with him, are you?"

"Van Dam?" Hunter barked, chuckling to himself. "Van Dam wouldn't know what had hit him if he chased after – " the door opened, slowly, and Randy Orton's head appeared between wood and wall. "Ah – and here he is. The wanderer returns at last. Where've you been, kid?"

Randy looked to his mentor and deemed honesty to be the best policy – with Hunter, there was no point in lying; he always found out eventually and it never went down well. "I went to get Lita but she's really not budging," he replied, rolling his neck and letting out an audible groan upon hearing it crack. He took a seat beside the oldest member of the faction and rubbed at his shoulder – it was the one he had injured previously and, for the best part of a month, there had been a constant ache in the muscle. Needless to say, Rob Van Dam had not helped this. His wincing did not go unnoticed by the Nature Boy but before he could mention it, Randy continued, "She was with that Psycho Bitch." His head inclined towards Dave momentarily but The Animal of Evolution rolled his eyes before looking away in disgust. "I don't think she'll be back tonight…"

"We don't need her, kid," Hunter said, getting to his feet and flexing his fingers, making sure he still had all the flexibility he had on a regular basis. If truth be told, he had though bringing a diva into the faction would be a good idea – Evolution really would hold all of the titles in business and she would help them to truly become 'the most dominant faction the WWE had ever seen' – but now he was starting to think twice about it. She was messing with the kid's head; the boy was already a few sandwiches short of a picnic to start with. "Not tonight, at least. Tonight, she'd be more of a hindrance than a help – what kinda help would she be against a nut like Goldberg?"

"I figured," came a small voice from beside the door, which Randy had left ajar. "That I could come in quite handy." Randy grinned in her direction and, until Ric elbowed him in the ribs, causing the smile to falter, Lita was dazed by his handsome face, the redhead struggling to look away. "I'm sorry for flipping out earlier…" She had questioned not coming back to Evolution and had actually headed straight out to the parking lot where she had intended to get a cab back to the hotel. And that's when it had struck her – Hunter wasn't trying to upset her; he was leaving Matt with a lasting reminder that you did not mess with Evolution. He was helping her, doing it for her. They all were. "But if you don't need me…" There was a smile playing at her lips now as she pretended to leave.

"Shut up and get back in here," Hunter said and, while there was no smile on his face, she could tell he was amused. "We've got a big night ahead of us – we've got our little match with Jericho and my old friend Shawn Michaels as well as that psycho Goldberg, not to mention Van Dam sticking his nose in where its not needed…"

"Van Dam?" Lita asked. She had completely missed Randy's match, had no idea what had happened and, ultimately, was clueless. She couldn't imagine Rob gunning for Evolution – he was eccentric, not retarded.

"Van Dam got a little over excited and got himself involved in young Randy's match," Ric explained. "Couldn't just stay in the back like a good little wrestler…"

"But why?"

"Because of you," Batista spoke, his words seemed scathing and his lip was curled slightly in disgust. "He's your friend, isn't he? Maybe he thinks he's defending your honour or something. But whatever it is – if he so much as breathes on my match tonight, he'll be going back to Battle Creek in a body bag."


	10. Chapter 10

ZOMG. WE'RE DONE WITH THE RE-WRITE. This is the last "re-written" chapter and anything from now on is entirely new. I hope you've enjoyed so far and will continue to read, enjoy and review. Thank you :)  
Kimberly xx

"There really wasn't any need to do that," the redhead said. Perched on a table between two black sofas, she leaned forward and squeezed the small, yellow sponge she held in her hand. "You should just be glad Kane distracted the ref – if he had seen you, Hunter would have lost the match and then…well…"

"It'd have been his own fault," replied the third generation superstar in front of her as the warm sponge made contact with his skin. He drew back as, dabbing around it, the redhead drew closer to the large gash above his eyebrow. "I told him not to leave you up there…I mean, what can J.R. or The King do?"

"You threw the first punch, Randy…" Lita soothed, the way a mother tries to console a child who's lost a fight. "He posed no real threat but you came charging up, all guns blazing, didn't you?"

"Clearly," Randy winced as, finally, the sponge touched the open wound. "Clearly you underestimate Goldberg. You don't know what he's like! He doesn't see you as a woman – he just sees you as another member of Evolution. He doesn't care what happens to you." He paused before adding, "Not like me."

"That's a nice joke, Randy but you have to sit still – this'll sting a little."

"Can't hurt any more than when it got bust open in the first – ARGH! The fuck was that?"

"Anti-sceptic gel to stop infections getting into it," Lita smiled, amused by the look of sheer horror on the young man's face. "An infection would hurt a lot more than a little anti-sceptic cream."

"Feels like my forehead's on fire," Randy retorted, fighting the urge to rub the injured area. "So how come you're doing this?" He was greeted with a blank stare. "Fixing me up? I usually just do it myself – we all do."

"And I've seen your version of stitches. Is it any wonder you keep getting bust open when you never fix the wounds correctly?"

"Still doesn't explain anything. One week you're throwing me out of your hotel room. The next – hey! That hurt! – the next you're patching me up like a war hero."

"You're moving your eyebrows too much, Orton. Stop it!"

"And even tonight – one minute you're locking yourself up in bathrooms with Psycho Bitch of the Century and the next you're in the locker room preparing for battle."

"So I'm a little temperamental. All women are…"

"Nah you're just nuts, I'd say."

"That's nice, Orton. Now hold still," She was only putting paper stitches on but Randy watched as, with precision and care, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, she completed the task. "There!" She said, pulling back to admire her handiwork. "Now you can go out and invade the match with Hunter or whatever it was you guys were planning to do…"

"You say that like you don't care," he challenged but was met with a defiantly raised chin. "I'm not stupid, Lita. I know they're your friends – at least they were. 'Til Christian started pissing you off…"

"Why do you know so much about me?" Lita asked with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. "First with the Mexico shit and now this? Do you stalk me or something?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Lita! I'm just an observant guy."

"Who read my book…"

"That too."

"You infuriate me, Orton." The diva dropped the sponge she had used to clean up his wounds into the small, water filled bowl, sending water cascading over the edges and onto the table.

"I know." Randy got to his feet and cracked his neck. "Now if you don't mind, I'm heading out to that ring- you coming?"

"Do I have a choice?"

* * *

"I just don't get it," Hunter complained loudly into the microphone. "Why is it that you people keep sticking your nose into Evolution's business when it, clearly, has nothing to do with you?" Christian lay in the centre of the ring, lifeless as Dave Batista towered over him, daring him to move. Chris Jericho had been tossed from the ring and lay near a security barrier, silently stirring under the watchful eye of Randy Orton who, every time he hinted at waking up, kicked him in the head. "First we had these two chumps, demanding a match against The Nature Boy and The Animal and now Rob Van Dam – self proclaimed Mr Monday Night – thinks he can get involved in Randy's match?" The fans cheered at the mention of the fan favourite, but soon silenced as Randy's boot connected with Chris Jericho's face before the third generation superstar climbed back into the ring. "Don't worry Rob," Hunter grinned into the microphone, clapping Randy on the back. "You can interfere all you want, come Armageddon because it's going to be you versus Orton for your Intercontinental Championship."

Orton grinned almost maniacally, his smile stretching from ear to ear. Once again, Lita felt the regular thud against her ribs quicken and she cursed herself inwardly for being so pathetic. "But don't worry Goldberg - or you Kane – cause you won't be left out of the action. At Armageddon it'll be Goldberg versus Kane versus Triple H for the World Heavyweight Championship," Ric announced and, while the fans cheered at the prospect of such an exciting main event, Lita's heart dropped. Armageddon was going to be a pretty big night for Evolution.

* * *

The next week flew by, almost blurring as Lita spent most of her time between the gym and the mall. She had never been much of a shopper but Hunter had decided to have 'a little word' about the appearance of Evolution and the look she would be expected to have once the titles were in their grasp. "No baggy pants and no wrestling boots unless you're wrestling. Actually, make sure you keep the tattoo covered too, now I think on it," he had told her late on Monday night after a few glasses of Jack Daniels and coke. At first, she had been offended – she liked the way she dressed! – but she understood that, just like he had said, she didn't fit in. He had gone as far as to say she should dye her hair 'a more natural colour' but that was one step too far. Nevertheless, she had mellowed on the topic of her clothing and was now the not-so-proud owner of a variety of Little Black Dresses and an array of matching heels. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, there was only one thing that Lita could think of: If Trish could see me now…

It was Sunday evening. Well, technically, it was Monday morning as of four minutes ago but Lita couldn't sleep and she had tried on every last one of her new outfits, deliberating and debating on which one to wear that evening to Raw. She felt like an alien, dressed in expensive dresses and pretty jewellery – it was so different to her typical look. She hated wearing dresses – always had done – and, while she could walk in heels, she always suffered from leg pain the next day. So why had she agreed so readily to it? Not only did she 'see Hunter's point' but he had promised to pull a few strings concerning the divas title match at Armageddon. If he could have both him and Orton inserted into title matches, he could do the same for her.

Her heart jumped at the thought of having a title shot after so long but the spark of electricity which fizzled through her fizzled and died. She couldn't wrestle like that – not yet. Sure, she had wrestled against Molly, she'd wrestled against Victoria too – hell, she'd even done it in a steel cage! – but there was something about wrestling both of them at the same time and with such high stakes. The redhead sighed and her body crumpled. Where, in the mirror, she would have once saw a winner, a warrior and, ultimately, one of the strongest women she knew, she now saw someone she didn't recognise, someone crumpled and defeated. No. She shook her head and raised her chin defiantly – this was a new start, a new chance. She was a different woman, a stronger woman. And she wasn't going to let people like Matt Hardy keep her down.

Slipping out of her short black dress and kicking her heels to the side, the redhead swallowed hard. That was it – no more baggy pants, no more silly zips and ties on her shirts, no more 'punk' scene and, sure as hell, no more Matt Hardy. This was a new day, a new Lita. She rid herself of the jewellery she was wearing and pulled on a pair of comfortable pyjamas. Tomorrow would be the start of something new, something good.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you for waiting so long for this chapter. I am ridiculously excited to say I think some of my best writing is in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it and readers old and new, please give me your thoughts and opinions. I love hearing your thoughts!_

_Read, Review, Enjoy._

_Kim, xo_

* * *

The lights of the arena were dimmed and, occasional flashes of cameras in the audience, the only source of light was the large spotlight which shone into the centre of the ring, showcasing five wrestlers: Evolution. The fans booing had subsided now, long after the final chords of Line In The Sand had finished playing from the speakers, and the five stood in silence though Triple H held a traditional WWE microphone in his hand. In his low drawl, the Greenwich native commanded the fans attention, "In six days I'm planned to take on Goldberg and Kane in a Triple Threat match. Once again, I find myself at the centre of the numbers game because someone couldn't keep their nose out of my business. And that somebody is _you_, Kane." Hunter paused, the fans' ears pricking up at the sound of the Big Red Machine's name and their boos starting once again. "I don't know what you think you're playing at Kane but I can assure you that after our match tonight you will not be wrestling on Sunday..."

The lights rose slightly, allowing the crowd a better look at the five in the ring. In black suits and white, button down shirts stood Triple H and Ric Flair, flanked by Dave Batista and Randy Orton who were dressed in suit pants and maroon and blue button downs, respectively. To Randy's side stood Lita, her long red locks swept back from her hair face in soft curls which hung around her shoulders, covering the spaghetti straps of her black dress. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, wringing her hands nervously and she edged slightly closer to Randy as Triple H finished speaking. She was sure Kane would be down here in no time and, when he was, she was not going to be in that ring.

Her fears were put to rest, however, as it was not Kane's titantron which took over the screen but Mick Foley's, the familiar guitar riffs of 'Wreck' shaking the arena. Lita was torn; once she would have beamed with pride, Mick strutting down the ramp in his plaid waistcoat, grinning his trademark toothless grin. But not now – not this new Lita. She felt Randy stiffen beside her as he squared his shoulders, preparing for this to end badly. "Should I leave?" she muttered quietly, her lips moving so little that a ventriloquist would have been proud. Randy shook his head – those kind of directions came from Hunter and Hunter alone and Hunter was far too busy watching Foley's every move.

The 'Hardcore' legend slipped between the ropes, grinning around at all the fans in attendance before a ring attendant handed him a microphone. He paused for a second, turning to stare at Evolution, five unreadable faces staring back at him. "Where the hell do you get off, Triple H, telling people who will and won't be wrestling in your match on Sunday Night?" The crowd popped for Foley, cheering him as he chastised the former champion. "In fact – where the hell do you get off involving yourself in any of the matches on Sunday Night? Last time I checked, Hunter, I was co-general manager and that means that I have just as much say in Sunday Night as your boy Eric..." Hunter eyed Mick sceptically, not liking where this was going. "And so you think you can just swan into Eric's office, insert your bitch here into a title match?" Randy's figurative feathers ruffled and he began shouting across the ring at Foley, obscene insults that the audience couldn't hear thanks to his lack of microphone. Foley laughed, completely ignoring Orton, speaking over him. "You, uh, you might wanna put a muzzle on her..."

The fans cheered as Mick moved about the ring, still grinning in Hunter's direction. Rolling his eyes, the Connecticut native shrugged. "You really think you frighten me, Mick? Huh?" his trademark drawl commanded all attention and the fans fell silent once more. "Well let me tell you something : you don't. You don't frighten any of us...You're a washed up old has-been..."

"Says the man who rides with Ric Flair...But, yes, do go on..." Mick stroked his beard as, once again, the crowd went wild.

"As I was saying..." The crowd continued to cheer, now starting up a 'FOLEY' chant. Triple H raised his voice : "AS I WAS SAYING...You're a washed up old has-been Mick...You don't frighten any of us...Do your worst..." Hunter scoffed, turning to face Flair, though his eyes never left Mick. "Wonder what he's got planned, Ric? A _hard-core _match?" The blond turned back to face Mick, his eyes spewing bile and venom as he spoke directly to the co-general manager. "You can make it any kind of match you want – you can add guys in, you can take guys out, you can make it no-disqualifications, you can make it in a steel cage. But the fact of the matter is – I will be leaving Orlando on Sunday night as the World Heavyweight Champion."

It was Mick's turn to scoff, now. "Oh, I wasn't going to touch your match, Hunter – though that steel cage is a good idea...I'll think that one over..." He paused, allowing the other occupants of the ring to imagine the sadistic Kane and the unstable Goldberg in a steel cage match with their mentor. It did not make for a pretty image. "No...I was thinking...Your match, Orton." Mick turned to Randy, waving at the youngest member of Evolution. "I figured, since Eric made the match without consulting me...I should stake my claim on it to, you know? So I sat at home and I thought – 'Mick, how can you make sure that this is a fair match? How can I _possibly_ make this match the best that it can be?' And then it hit me – I can be the guest referee!" Randy exploded at this, his obscenities loud enough, now, to be heard a good few rows into the crowd. Hunter seemed to be radiating hatred and Ric, much like Randy, was screaming across the ring, although neither of them made a move to attack him – they were angry, yes, but not angry enough to hit a General Manager and lose favour with Vince. "See ya Sunday, Randal." 'Wreck' hit once again and Mick began to leave the ring. But his music was cut short as he stopped suddenly, turning back to face the five still in the ring. "Oh and, Lita?" Lita swallowed, her eyes wide as she was addressed for the first time. "I hope you're not planning on wearing that to wrestle tonight because you face Trish Stratus in..." he checked his non-existent watch before laughing. "Well its the next match up. Right after this..."

* * *

The Dudley Boyz music hit, the two plundering onto the ramp. Only Randy and Hunter had been scheduled for matches that evening – a late slot against Maven for Randy and a one on one between Kane and Hunter in the main event which Lita knew would end in a no contest, a beat down on Kane from the rest of Evolution. No one said anything about a tag team match and, certainly, there had been no mention of a divas match...Especially not against Trish...

Lita shifted her weight from one foot to another, wringing her hands with nerves once more. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail with stray wisps of red framing her face and, wearing an evolution t-shirt and tight black pants, she wondered what her life had come to. This wasn't her – not even slightly! - and it was almost like staring at a redhead version of her opponent for the evening – Trish Stratus. And so, while Randy and Hunter discussed strategy for Sunday in the main body of the locker room, Lita made a few alterations to her attire in the bathroom.

Finally pleased – to some extent, at least, for she was not happy about being branded with 'Paid, Laid and Made' on her chest – with her newly customised attire, Lita left the locker room's private bathroom. "Knew the lady like look wouldn't last," laughed Randy, his eyes raking over the now sleeveless shirt and the large slash she had made across the cleavage. "But, damn, I ain't complaining..."

Hunter rolled his eyes before getting to his feet. "Time to head to the curtain," he said, speaking much calmed than Lita had expected. "Dave won't take much longer to finish them off..." He clapped a large hand on Randy's shoulder and, after mumbling what could only be thought of as words of encouragement, the former champion ushered them from the locker room.

"I don't need you to chaperone me to the curtain you know..." Lita glared up at the man who, whether she liked it or not, she had become fond of. At least slightly... He was still a bastard. Just a slightly less annoying bastard than the rest of Evolution...  
"I'm not chaperoning you to the curtain. I'm accompanying you to the ring." His words were matter of fact and his flirty, joking manner from inside the locker room was gone as they walked to the curtain : he meant business. But, business or not, Lita was going to question it. The redhead opened her mouth to insist she didn't need his help that she was more than capable of handling herself against Trish but was instantaneously cut off by the twenty-three year old. "Hunter thinks Kane's going to interfere in at least one of our matches tonight. No one goes out alone. And, if Kane doesn't, Goldberg will...Either way its not safe for you to be down at the ring on your own. Hunter doesn't want you getting attacked. You're one of us, remember?"

"Oh..." she had been so preoccupied thinking about wrestling her friend (or was it former friend, now?) that she had completely forgotten about everything that had gone on before Mick had announced her match. As they neared the curtain, the boos of the crowd grew louder until it was all they could hear – Ric and Dave had picked up the victory, ensuring they would be in the fatal four way for the Tag Team Titles in six days time.

* * *

"Ready to make it two and oh for Evolution?"

The bell rang, signalling the start of the match and both women stared across the ring at each other. Trish's eyes were repeatedly dragged to the corner of the apron where Randy Orton stood, completely uninterested in the match. He was looking anywhere but the ring, keeping his eyes open but this did nothing to re-assure Trish that this would be a one on one match. She moved across the ring tentatively, one arm stretched out as though ready to go for the lock up but, moving much faster than she had anticipated, Lita struck fast striking at Trish's mid-section with her boot, causing the blonde to halt temporarily. Within seconds, however, she had regained her composure and was stuck in the lock up she had anticipated to begin with, neither diva willing to look like the weaker of the two.

But the two had much bigger problems on their mind as the arena was hurtled into blackness, the stage lights, titantron, house lights and advertisements turning off in perfect sync with each other. Not even the spotlight which had shone on Evolution earlier in the evening offered relief from the dark. The divas broke apart, both blonde and red hair whipping from side to side as they searched for some sort of light. Though there had been power outages in arenas before, the emergency lights had always stayed on. There were no emergency lights, no exit signs, no way out.

The fans seemed to call out in protest, though their cries and yells seemed to mingle with one another, creating something much like white noise, a background noise for the darkness. Lita could hear footsteps on the mat now which she assumed to be Trish getting into the safety of the turn-buckle. The redhead swallowed hard, wanting to call across the ring, to make sure Trish was okay. But she couldn't do that. Not now. And not just because they were no longer friends – her feet were rooted to the spot, her heart pounding so ferociously against her ribcage that she could feel a dull ache, a pain unlike any other. The pain caused by terror.

"Stay there," she heard Randy's voice, breathy and shaky, though in the darkness it was difficult to pin point where it came from. A soft hand brushed against her arm causing her to jump, shrieking as she did so, causing Trish to whimper from the corner. "Its just me..." Randy said, taking a firm grip of the diva. "Its just me..."

Lita's hands shook – now that Randy was so near there was no denying the quiver in his voice. He was just as scared as she was. "Its Kane isn't it?" But the self proclaimed Legend Killer didn't have time to answer as a maniacal laugh bellowed from the two large speakers either side of the titantron, an eerie cacophony which echoed around the arena, drawing closer and closer until Lita was sure the owner of the laugh was right by her ear. The calls and cries from the fans died as the laugh loudened, making it the only sound Lita could hear. In her mind's eye she could see him, with his one discoloured eye and his small, gappy teeth, she could almost smell his rancid breath, which her imagination told her would smell stale and foul. The lights flickered, allowing a momentary break from the darkness and Lita shuffled back, closer to her fellow stable member. Orton's warm breath tickled the hairs and beads of perspiration which covered the back of her neck and she shuddered almost every time he exhaled.

The lights flickered for the second time as, for the first time since the lights went off, the entire arena plunged into silence. There was no laughter, no angry fans, no footsteps in the ring. Randy's arm wrapped protectively around her as he took a grip of her arm. "If I tell you to run, you run. I don't care if you can't see. You run, got it?" the redhead nodded though she knew he couldn't see. Her throat clammed up, and nothing but a strangled choking noise escaped her lips. Randy took this as a yes and said no more. Her lips parted slightly, she took a deep breath but found herself gagging. Her nostrils were filled with a pungent smell, much like that of burning rubber though there was something she couldn't put her finger on. The smell filled all of her senses, leaving the taste on her tongue as she gagged once more. The smell grew stronger and she heard – or rather felt – Randy gag behind her as the components of the smell made themselves more obvious. An overwhelmingly copper smell which lingered on the tongue, with a faint hint of charcoal and meat which momentarily reminded Lita of the barbecues she had had growing up and a strong stench of bodily fluids, primarily sweat which seemed to ingrain itself into every pore of the diva's body.

And then the laughter started up again.

Though this time, it was much closer. Much closer indeed. She could hear it all now, his breathing, his footsteps, the rattle at the back of his throat as he laughed maniacally. Randy's fingertips pressed harder and harder against her skin as he pushed her back, away from the oncoming terror. She shuffled as minutely as she could, hoping desperately not to make any noise. Kane was not the type to spare someone of the fairer sex and Lita knew this. With laboured breaths, she moved behind Randy, who's warm, clammy hand left her skin, leaving her – though she would never admit it – almost missing his touch, which had assured her she was safe.

In perfect sync with each other once again, the lights – from the tiny emergency lights which lit the ramp to the huge titantron – sprung to life once more. The initial harshness on the eyes temporarily blinded the diva but, when finally able to see, she wished she couldn't. Standing mere inches from Randy was the Big Red Monster. His breathing rasped and rattled as he glared down at Randy, his one "normal" eye intense and unblinking. A reddish fog seemed to cover the bottom of the ring and the unhinged 'monster' stood, waiting for Orton to make the first move. And that he did, his arm moving backwards to push Lita from the ring with a "RUN!"

And then it seemed to span from there. Body parts flew at each other as the two broke out into a brawl; this was not a wrestling match, this was a fight. A fight which unfolded in front of Lita's eyes – a sea of fists and a splatter of crimson told her someone was bleeding though with the speed the two were going at, she couldn't be sure who it was. _Where's Hunter? Where is he? He should be stopping this! _Lita's heart pounded in her ears and, once again, she felt her stomach rise. With one impossibly hard and fast right hook, Randy was lifted from the mat and sent a good six inches backwards, where he tumbled to the mat, the ring seemingly shaking as he landed. Kane stood above him, the maniacal laugh ringing throughout the arena once more as he bent down. Taking a grip of Randy's throat, he hauled him back to his feet. The red trickle of blood stemmed from the cut Lita had patched up just the week before, running rivers across his features until it marred his handsome face. He seemed floppy, almost like a doll in the seven foot monster's grip. The redhead's hands began to shake once more as she stared on in despair. Randy made a last ditch attempt to rid himself from Kane's grip but the right hook from Kane had knocked him for six, leaving him disorientated and unbalanced. _WHERE IS HUNTER? _

And then it struck her. She looked around frantically, trying to find something. There was no way she could lift steel steps and she would never manage any real damage with the ring bell...She rushed to the apron, hauling it up and hunting for something, anything. If there was one thing about Kane it was that he took his time. He loved to see the fear build in his victim's eyes, to watch them squirm as they tried to get away from him. Her hand closed around the leg of a steel chair and she hauled it from under the ring, making her way between the ropes and across to where Kane stood. The blood was pumping in her ears and the shaking of her hands rattled the chair but if Hunter wasn't going to do something... The deafening _thwack_ as metal came in contact with muscle, flesh and bone terrified her but it gave her the desired effect. Randy was dropped, Kane's hand gripping at the back of his own neck as close as he could get to between his shoulder blades, where Lita had hit him. It wasn't hard enough, not by a long shot, but it gave them time.

In actual fact, it gave Randy time as Kane turned to face the five foot six diva. She stood staring up at him, her mouth agape as her senses took over. Her stomach heaved but she made no attempt to move. A thin film of cold sweat covered her arms, her upper lip and the nape of her neck as Kane's lips curled, his hand reaching down to grip the steel chair still in her grasp. With one swift pull he removed it from her grasp and, looking down at the steel – which was now curved slightly from the impact it had made against him – began to laugh again. She tried to run but her body wouldn't let her. Her legs ached with the need to move, to escape from danger but she couldn't and as the steel chair came crashing down on her, everything turned black.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note : I have no idea where this chapter came from. It was already typed up on my laptop and I have a feeling I typed it while drugged up on painkillers. Point of this story? I write pretty good when I'm high on painkillers xD But, yes, I hope you enjoy this. I've missed writing this story so much. And, as way of thanks for reminding me about it, I want to dedicate this chapter to Claudia (aka Rocketxqueen).

Please read, review and enjoy 3

Kimberly

xox

* * *

The voices seemed to come from far away, muffled as though at the end of a long tunnel and the diva struggled to make out the words. Her head pounded and just trying to lift her neck a millimetre or two felt incredibly strenuous, sending jolts of pain coursing from the crown of her head all the way down her back. Her eyes felt heavy and even taking a breath seemed to hurt. The voices were getting closer now and she could make out two different voices now, both male, though she was unable to decipher who they belonged to. She took a deep, racking breath which resulted in her choking, coughing a little, her ribs throbbing in protest at the exertion. The two voices fell silent though a third one pipped up, "Is she awake?" this voice was clearer than the other two, but she still struggled to put a name and face to it. "Should I get the doctor?"

One of the first voices spoke again and, this time, it seemed very clear, as though he were standing much closer than the other two, "You just press this red button, here, champ." Lita's eyes flickered as she did her best to open them, fighting against her heavy eyelids.

A fourth voice joined soon after; a female one, much more melodious than the other three she'd heard so far. "Is she awake?" she repeated. Lita responded with a small choking noise in the back of her throat. "Someone needs a drink..." The female voice seemed to drift away for a second until she felt her top half being raised, a loud cranking noise telling her that the mechanical bed was moving her into a sitting position. The cranking noise stopped and she felt a glass being pressed to her lips, the nurse doing her best to make her drink and causing the redhead to splutter as the liquid made it down her throat. "There we go..." Lita's eyes flickered again, this time managing to open though she closed them again almost instantly. The lights were bright and clinical, much too bright for her tender eyes. She had only been asleep for...her train of thought was stopped in its tracks as she realised that she didn't know how long she had been asleep for. Opening her eyes once more she attempted to adjust to the lights of her room.

From her seated position on the bed, she spotted five faces staring back at her. By her side was a nurse, a tall woman in her forties with black hair showing premature greys, pulled back into a band. She had a warm smile and something about the way she observed the diva reassured Lita; she had been in her field for a long time, the diva was in good hands. At the bottom of her bed, dressed in dark grey suit pants and a slightly dishevelled white shirt, stood Ric Flair, both hands braced on the metal frame of the bed. Triple H stood by his side, his polo shirt and suit trousers looking pristine as ever, though his face told another story, while Randy took place over by the door. He had dark circles under his eyes and the gash Lita had cleaned up just the week before had fresh butterfly-stitches covering it. Dave, hiding behind his small dark glasses was seated in the only seat in the room which looked ready to give way under his weight.

The nurse busied around her, taking her pulse and recording the stats from the machine beside her which beeped loudly. "How're you feeling, sweetheart?" the nurse asked, staring into Lita's hazel eyes, taking the redheads 'observations'.

"Little tired...you?" when she spoke, her voice was much stronger than she'd expected. There was a slight crackle to it and it was heavy with sleep but it proved to her she hadn't been out of things for too long.

Ric laughed nervously but the other three remained silent as the nurse disappeared from the room, no doubt to get a doctor and tell him she was awake. "Its rude to sleep when you have visitors..." Ric laughed again moving from the end of her bed. Rolling his sleeves up he helped himself to a glass of water from the jug by her bed. "So...how're you really?"

Lita ignored the oldest member of Evolution to stare at the blond man a few feet away from her. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice cracking a little as her eyes bore into Hunter's.

"What?" Hunter's hands now gripped the metal frame and Lita noticed the bruises, the dents and cuts which adorned his knuckles. He looked tired and his dark circles were almost identical to Randy's.

"Where were you when Kane attacked Randy? Why didn't you help us?" Hunter rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "You left us...You left me to get..." She paused. She wasn't quite sure what happened. Not after she hit Kane with the steel chair.

"Four days, Lita. In four days I have to wrestle that psychopath Kane AND Goldberg," Hunter sounded weary and the redhead noted he had been one of the original two voices she had heard. She also noted that that would make it Wednesday meaning she had slept – or rather been unconscious – right through Tuesday. "I have to wrestle those psycho bastards six days after Ric, Dave and I were ambushed by your buddies, after I fought off Goldberg to get to the ring to help you and the kid, after I got you out of a chokeslam, after I knocked six shades of blue out of Kane and still had to wrestle him in the main event with only Dave at ringside. So don't start questioning where I was because I was right there, right there..." Lita swallowed hard. He had saved her. She looked at Randy who nodded minutely, confirming his story.

"Sorry..." she said, her voice much weaker than it had been at first.

"Its fine now, ain't it champ?" Ric said, moving back to his side to clap a hand on his shoulder. "We're all awake now. All ready for Sunday..."

Lita's eyes widened. "Sunday?"

"Armageddon...?" Dave offered. "Maybe she has amnesia?"

"No...No I know it's Armageddon I just..."

"Didn't think you'd be there?" there was a slight snarl on Hunter's lip as it curled upwards. "You're one of us, Lita, which means you'll be there. I don't care if I have to smuggle you out of this hospital myself. You'll be there. No doubts about it."

The other three avoided her eyes as the room fell silent. So that's how it was... It wasn't about her safety or her health. It was about showing a united front. "Okay..." Her word hanging in the air, a doctor entered the room, shooing the men out before closing the door. "Can I leave now?" She asked almost instantly.

"Oh-ho-ho," the doctor laughed, as he pushed back her covers a little. "I don't know about that...You just woke up."

"I have to be in Orlando on Sunday..."

"We'll see." He spoke with a finality as he began to check over the bruises which adorned her body. There was a large gash above her eyebrow, where the chair had connected with her head and bruising on her cheek, her ribs, her back and her legs, from where Kane had thrown her – much like a doll – at the announce table while he 'dealt with' Randy again, before returning to Lita and dealing the final blow which rendered her unconscious. The doctor was gentle as he leaned her forward to check the bruising on her back. "Your file says you suffered a broken neck not so long ago..." He did not wait for a response as he tested the movement of the divas neck, stopping when she hissed in pain. "Well your x-rays confirmed there's nothing broken but there is a great deal of bruising on your ribs. You also suffered a mild trauma to the spine – nothing long term – but we injected some corticosteroids near the trauma which should reduce swelling, we'll give you some of them in pill form too... But I'm afraid the best medicine for these types of injuries is bed rest..."

"But I can't..." The doctor eased her back into her sitting position, a soft pillow giving her neck and back cushioning. "I'm a wrestler we have a pay-per-view on-"

"I don't think so. You won't be wrestling for a while, I'm afraid. A month or two at the very least..." Lita swallowed. Clearly, this man did not know Triple H or Eric Bischoff. "Your neck was fragile as it was before you were hurtled off an announce table or smashed over the head with a steel chair...If you wrestle without being cleared by a doctor...There's a chance you won't be walking into your fortieth birthday party if you get where I'm going with this..." She did.

"And if I discharge myself?"

"Well there's nothing I can do if you discharge yourself but it really is highly unadvised. For your own safety..." The look of determination on the redhead's face shocked the doctor – it was the exact look the younger blond man had worn when the nurse had asked to check his knuckles. "But if you're going to check yourself out, please wait until tomorrow at least. We'd like to get your prescription checked first..."

* * *

Raising her hand to her face, Lita gingerly pressed her fingertips to her bruised cheek, wincing when it stung. No amount of make-up hid the now slightly yellowing bruises which adorned her cheek and there was absolutely nothing to be done to her forehead – she was going to have to attend Armageddon looking a hot mess, like a proper brawler. There was nothing classy about the bruises on her face... The redhead allowed a sigh to escape her lips at the thought – the past three days had been long and tiring, spent between her hospital bed, the airport and, her current location, the Hilton Hotel and all she wanted to do was sleep, not get ready for her first pay-per-view as an out-and-out bastard.

The hospital had put up quite the fight in terms of discharging the diva, only allowing her to leave on Friday evening when Ric was the only Evolution member to greet her, the other three having already flown to Orlando to prepare for their matches. The flight she shared with the sixteen time champion, however, was less than pleasant. She had begged him to let her go home before the pay-per-view, assuring him she would be in Orlando first thing on Sunday morning but, in true Evolution style, Ric had promised her that all she needed and more awaited her in the sunshine state before ushering her onto the plane and proceeding to sexually harass every female flight attendant he came across. While Ric downed whiskey after whiskey and became more and more sexually outrageous, Lita was left alone with her own worst enemy : her thoughts. She had never been a selfish person and had, in fact, spent much of her life trying to help people. Yet it was helping someone who had gotten her in the physical mess she was in at that moment... A small part of her argued that the person she helped would have done the same for her, that he _had_ done the same for her but the rest of her – largely the bandaged or bruised parts – told her that it was better to be selfish. Either way, it only solidified the idea that she truly had become a fully fledged member of Evolution...

Her hotel room was large, decked out in predominantly white, and flanked by Hunter and Ric's rooms, Dave and Randy further down the corridor. By her bed was a large suitcase which had been retrieved by Dave from her home and filled with half of her new wardrobe as well as most of her toiletries, a handful of books and an odd shoe. She had been grateful for the gesture and glad that Dave had been the one to take on that task – although she had grown fond of Randy, she still didn't like the idea of him rooting through her things.

Lita allowed her hand to drop from her face and turned away from the mirror. She had come to hate her reflection, long before the bruises had arrived. It was with a heavy sigh that she moved across the room and tentatively moved into a seated position on her bed. It was all her own fault, of course; she didn't have to join Evolution. To turn her back on her friends, to grow cold and hardened. She cast a hopeful glance down at her cell phone which lay just to her side. She had expected at least one text from one of her former friends wondering how she was but that, it appeared, was expecting too much. She was painfully reminded of Hunter's words back at the hospital : "Ric, Dave and I were ambushed by your buddies." They had tried to stop them from saving her. They had prolonged the attack on Randy and herself. A warm tear began a slow trail down her cheek as she lay back, her head coming to rest on her pillows. They had allowed her to end up in this mess. Not Hunter. Not Randy. Them. Her 'friends'.

Her eyes closed as she dried off her cheek, the lone tear being wiped aside by her thumb. It really had come to this and tomorrow she was going to prove it. Tomorrow she was going to accompany her new 'family' to ringside and she was going to watch as Kane and Goldberg were handed their revenge, even if she couldn't bring herself to choose Randy over Rob, no matter how betrayed and hurt she felt by the Battle Creek native. She was an Evolution member, yes, but she was still Lita. Full of conflicted feelings, the redhead turned to her side and attempted to sleep – she would need as much rest as possible for the pay-per-view – and it was in drowsing off to sleep that she received a single text message. 'Remember to take your painkillers. Randy.'


	13. Chapter 13

Author's note : So I've never started a chapter with a proper apology but I've never written real wrestling in a chapter before, either so it balances out. I'm not the best in the world at writing wrestling scenes as I'm sure you'll see (I know, a wrestling fanfiction writer who can't write wrestling. Hilarious.) and so I apologise profusely and hope that there is enough in the chapter to make you forgive me.

Please remember, read, review and enjoy.

Kimberly xox

* * *

The locker room seemed much too warm for Lita's tastes and a thin film of sweat covered her body, the exposed skin of her bare arm sticking to the leather sofa as she attempted to get more comfortable. She had done her best to look respectable, dressing in a black, sleeveless top and her best jeans but her face was still pale, her bruises still shining yellow and purple from their white canvas and, thanks to the pain in her ankle, she was having difficulty walking in anything other than her fluffy bunny slippers which, somehow, she couldn't imagine Hunter would approve of. Instead, she had been forced to opt for black ballet shoes which meant that Ric and Randy had had to take turns in helping her in and out of the car. She couldn't decide which had been worse.

She hadn't spoken to Randy since Kane's attack; not properly anyway. They had made small talk while she had been in hospital – her asking how his head was, him offering to get her food from the vending machine – but, besides one text the previous evening, that had been the extent of their contact. And so it was no wonder that she felt so uncomfortable while they sat in the plush Evolution locker room, Randy taping up his hands while she fidgeted with a bottle of ice water, determined to cool down and get comfortable. "Hows your foot now?" Randy asked as he taped up his second hand, more out of politeness and discomfort at the silence than actual care and consideration.

"Sore," Lita replied simply, her lips tugging into a weak smile. "I just wanted to say...you know...thanks. For helping me when Kane attacked us..." Silence fell upon them once more and this time it was Lita's turn to break it. "I don't remember much, you know?"

"And you're wanting me to fill you in on what happened?"

"Something like that, I suppose..."

"You could have just watched it. It gets repeated at least twice a week," Randy raised his wrist to his mouth, biting and snapping the tape before securing the ends.

"You're going to ruin your teeth doing that," Lita said, her hand curling around her neck to rub at the painful muscles near the back. "And I haven't really had the time to watch television, Orton. Unless you hadn't noticed, I've been in hospital since Monday." Her tone softened as the continued to rub at her neck. "I just want to know what happened...I don't remember anything after I hit him with the chair..."

"You shouldn't have done that," Randy replied, his lip curling slightly. "I had it covered."

"Right. That's why Kane had you poised for a chokeslam. I'm sorry - I didn't realise being thrown around like a ragdoll was part of your plan. My mistake," the defiance and anger in her words were reminiscent of the fiery diva who had taken the wrestling world by storm and Randy allowed himself to smile a little at her words, glad to have the old Lita back.

"It's not that it wasn't appreciated," he said, shaking his head and leaning back against the sofa he was perched on. "Believe me, Lita, it was. But you shouldn't have done it." In baggy Nike shorts and running shoes Randy looked ready to tackle the gym, though heaven knew he didn't feel capable. He was still feeling the after-effects of Kane's attack and most of his muscles screamed out in protest at the slightest workout. Instead, he stretched out his legs and focused his stare on the woman in front of him. "I don't know if you've noticed it Lita, but you're female." Lita raised an eyebrow though soon regretted it when she felt a burn in the wound above it. "You're not supposed to be out there attacking monsters like Kane with steel chairs."

"No, I'm supposed to sit backstage and look pretty. Maybe involve myself in a pudding match, right?"

"I didn't say that," Randy replied, though he laughed at her annoyance. "Look, Lita – Hunter won't admit it to you but he kinda sees it like its our duty to protect you when you're out there. We're supposed to make sure nothing happens to you." The Legend Killer swallowed. "And I didn't. I fucked up, okay?"

Lita opened her mouth, wanting to tell him that it hadn't been his fault, that she didn't need to be looked after by some novice wrestler but before a single word could escape her lips, the door of the locker room opened and the others entered, Ric fussing over Hunter, Dave almost oblivious to the chaos around him. "You okay, kid?" Hunter asked, raking his eyes over the third generation who looked thoroughly disgruntled.

Any vulnerability Lita had seen in the 'Legend Killer' was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived and his trademark smirk soon spread across his face. "You betcha, Hunt," he replied stretching his arms along the back of the sofa.

"Good. Good..." Hunter replied distractedly, his eyes scanning the extravagant locker room before perching himself on the arm of Lita's sofa. "And you?" Lita shrugged non-committally. "Good. It's a big night tonight...Can't have any distractions..."

* * *

By the time the lights of the arena had dimmed and the pyrotechnics had been tested, Lita was a bundle of nerves. Ric had helped her walk to Gorilla, where she stood, shaking every time Mark Henry or Teddy Long cast the two of them a glance. "Lita? Lita?" Ric snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, shaking her from the trance she had been in. "Lita for God's sake we don't have time for this." She flinched away from his fingers and stared at the older man, the vein in his forehead pulsing. She hadn't noticed until now but Ric looked stressed. Very stressed. It took her a few seconds to realise that they were alone in gorilla, Mark and Teddy – as well as Booker – all having left the area to begin their match in the ring.

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip nervously. "I was just in...I was distracted."

"You heard the champ, Princess. We can't have any distractions tonight," Ric replied, adjusting his well tailored suit, fiddling with the button as he closed and opened the jacket. "This is your chance as much as it is Randy's you know?" Lita's eyebrow quirked and she winced almost instantly. _Need to stop doing that..._ "This is your chance to prove to Hunt that you're loyal to us. After that little outburst at the hospital..."

"I know..."

"So you know what to do, then?" Her brows furrowed. "You've got to make sure that Randy wins. No matter what happens, Randy Orton has to be crowned the new WWE Intercontinental Champion tonight."

"You want me to cheat." She said simply. There was no defiance, no arguing. That's what she was, now. A cheat.

"We want you to make sure Randy wins," Ric shrugged, finally deciding that his jacket was best left open. "Do the right thing, Lita." He gave her a knowing stare, which made him look almost cross eyed. But the intensity of his stare left the second footsteps could be heard, Ric's head snapping around to where Randy stood, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "You ready champ?"

Randy's top lip curled a little, exposing a slither of pearly, white teeth. "You bet," he said, shaking his arms a little, easing out the tension in his shoulders. "And you?" he said, turning to Lita. "You're not gonna flake out on me, are you?"

Lita's jaw fell as she glared at the young man. "I was hardly flaking out on you last week when I was getting you out of a chokeslam, was I?"

"That wasn't against your buddy Rob, was it?" Randy replied and Lita narrowed her eyes at him. How dare he suggest that she would...that she would betray Evolution? In her mind, she scoffed. Just weeks before, she would have done anything to make sure Randy Orton lost this match and yet here she was... "Look, if you're gonna be conflicted you can stay back here...Ric can come with me. Its not a problem." There was a hint of the softness, of the vulnerability she had heard in the locker room and she looked away from him.

"It's fine," she said, swallowing and pushing herself off of the crate she had been leaning against. "I'll escort you to the ring." She raked a hand through her hair and exhaled. "That's Booker's music though...I...I think their match is over."

Ric grinned from ear to ear. "Knew you wouldn't let us down, Princess," he said, clapping a hand on Randy's shoulder. A moment of silence passed as the three waited for Booker, Mark and Teddy to pass them. "Make Evolution proud, Champ." Ric said, once the stage hand gave them a signal to go through the curtain.

And, with that, Randy and Lita made their way out onto the ramp, a cocky grin plastered all over Randy's face as he strode ahead, leaving Lita to limp down on her own. He had already reached the bottom of the ramp when he remembered her injured leg and the third generation superstar paused as he waited for her to catch up, looking thoroughly bored as Motorhead's 'Line In The Sand' played on. Turning momentarily to gauge how far back she was, Randy was surprised to see her so close. "You alright?" he asked, almost inaudibly over the fans booing as she drew level, the diva nodding in response. After that, the self-proclaimed 'Legend Killer' made a great show of helping her to the steps, of making sure she was safely atop the canvas and pushing down the ropes to make her entrance easier on her battered body. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he clambered onto the turnbuckle to make his trademark pose. He was going to have to help her down, now. His arms spread wide, the Legend Killer snarled at the crowd, looking every bit the imposing wrestler but, as soon as One Of A Kind began to blare from the huge speakers either side of the titantron, he returned to the gentleman he had been moments before, jumping back onto the canvas and helping Lita onto the steps.

"Get back in the ring," she said through gritted teeth as she moved herself down the steps and onto the ringside area where she propped herself up against the canvas. The look she drew him was not the look of pure poison he expected, but of encouragement which made the corners of his own lips curl slightly as a smile attempted to spread across his face.

After that, his attention was drawn from the redhead and focused on the Battle Creek native who had entered the ring. This was it. This was his chance to prove himself. To prove that he wasn't just Bob Orton's son, to prove that he was a champion and, most importantly, that he was worthy to be in Evolution. The twenty three year old swallowed and continued to watch Rob. Rob Van Dam. The man who had, if rumours were to be believed, harboured a small crush on Lita before her 'turn to the dark side'. The same man who, just weeks after said turn, had aided in an ambush which led to Lita being smashed through an announce table. Randy shook his head. This had nothing to do with Lita. This was about him. And Rob. And that title. The third generation superstar rolled his neck as the two waited, staring each other down, for the special guest referee to arrive.

Foley, as was to be expected, arrived with a bang. The fans were almost deafening in their glee as he bounded down the ramp, high fiving the younger fans who lined the barrier. And yet none of this disconcerted Randy, who continued to watch Rob through narrowed eyes, Foley a mere blur in his peripheral vision. As the ring bell sounded and the match began, everything else went out of his mind. He didn't think about Hunter's demand that he bring home the gold, he didn't think about keeping the injured diva at ringside safe and he most certainly did not think about the strip-club he was going to be frequenting once the pay-per-view was over. All thoughts were focussed on Rob.

Lita watched with bated breath as Randy and Rob began to trash talk, their words deafened by the fans though she could surmise that at least one of the jibes or comments had been about her. Randy rolled his eyes as, alongside the fans, Rob began to chant his own name but, by the time he reached the third syllable, Randy's boot had connected with his stomach, making the Battle Creek native double over in pain, Lita wincing as he did.

As the wrestlers in the ring exchanged blows, kicks and derogatory slurs, Lita watched on, her stomach churning the longer the match wore on. Her mind – such a traitor – was filled with memories of times spent with Rob, of evenings spent eating pizza and watching old comedies, of days spent in the gym working on her fitness as she prepared to return to the ring, of jokes and laughter, of friendship. _And then there's Randy. _The former Women's Champion watched as both of Randy's feet left the canvas as he connected with a dropkick, Rob shaking the canvas as his body fell from impact. _Randy was a member of Evolution and, therefore, he represented all that was wrong in wrestling._ He moved in for the pin, Foley duly counting. _He represented corruption and cheating. _ONE. _He represented bias and favouritism. _TWO. _He was friends with Triple H for goodness' sake... _Rob kicked out of the pin, showing everyone in attendance that it would take more than a dropkick to finish off the current champion.

The redhead flinched as Randy's fist connected with the canvas, the young man looking livid. In next to no time, however, he was back to his feet, ready to attack. _He's not all that bad,_ thought Lita as the two locked up for the umpteenth time in the match. _He did save you...More than once. _She shifted her weight between her feet, wincing as she did. The diva swallowed. _Need to up the dosage on those painkillers tonight..._

She looked up, dragging her mind from her leg, just in time to watch Rob throw Randy over the top rope, the third generation superstar landing on the hard flooring by the ring. She wasn't quite sure what compelled her nor where she found the strength but, in mere seconds, she was by his side, a thin hand reaching out to grip his shoulder as he grabbed the barrier, hauling himself up into an almost standing position. "Come on, Randy," she said, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Back in there."

Her words were lost on him, however, as Rob cannonballed over the top rope, the champion landing on Randy who's head clattered against the barrier, the diva being thrown to the side and letting out a cry of pain as her leg seemed to burn. Perhaps it had been her shrill cry or perhaps he had been biding his time, hoping for a moment to speak to her but regardless of the motivation, Lita found herself cast in shadow as Rob stood before her. "Lita..." he said, his arms open, a remorseful look in his eyes.

_ONE..._ Mick began the count-out.

"Stay away from me," she gasped, scooting backwards. If truth be told – and in Evolution, it so rarely was – she wasn't sure where the sudden sense of fear came from. All she knew was that she was defenceless and on the floor while Rob, who had caused her fall, loomed over her.

_TWO..._

"Lita I didn't mean...Please," he extended a hand, offering to help her up but the redhead eyed him warily. "Lita..."

_THREE..._

"Get away from me, Rob. I mean it..."

_FOUR..._

"Don't be like this. Please, I'm sorry..." And he truly did look sorry, holding out an unwanted, slightly shaking hand, his eyes full of sorrow and regret.

_FIVE..._

"I said 'get away'..." her voice shook as she scooted back some more, though Rob made no attempt to close the gap between them, the wrestler standing alone and rejected as his opponent began to stir.

_SIX..._

"I didn't realise how close you were..."

_SEVEN..._

Lita frowned. What in the name of God is that supposed to mean? She and Randy weren't close and it was preposterous to claim they – OH. Lita's mind finally caught up as she realised he had meant the physical distance between the two. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Randy was almost to his feet, now; even if he was having to use the barrier to hold himself up. "Get back in the ring!" she called across to him. "Get back in the ring – BOTH of you!"

_EIGHT..._

Rob looked down at the woman who seemed genuinely distraught at the idea of a count-out._ Of course she is, _he thought to himself. _Orton can't win with a count-out._ He stalled for a fraction of a second before walking towards Randy and, with all the force he could muster, threw him towards the canvas, the taller man rolling under the bottom rope and back into the ring. Climbing between the ropes, Rob followed suit to end the count-out.

Lita exhaled as the two returned to trading blows, using the time they spent in headlocks and roll ups to pull herself towards the barrier and, just as Randy had done, she used the sturdy black barrier to haul herself to her feet. It took the diva much longer to walk from the security wall to the canvas than it should have, enough time for Randy to apply a front face lock into a DDT, Rob's face smashing into the matt as Lita finally gripped onto the apron. Rob was out, no doubt about that, but Randy was struggling to stir. "Come on, Randy," she found herself calling, urging him to move, to pin the current champion. To win.

Slowly but surely, Randy dragged himself closer to the champion, slugging one arm over him as he moved to cover his body and Mick, once again, began a three count. Surprisingly, the former Women's Champion felt as though her heart was in her throat as the legend of hardcore Mick Foley brought his hand down to count the 'three'. Randy was going to be champion. He was going to -

He wasn't going to do anything, just yet. Not while Rob's hand clutched at the bottom rope, ending the three count.

The diva exhaled a long breath she hadn't been aware she was holding as Randy slumped to the side, dejected and aware that he had very little energy and momentum left. Mick shifted to the corner as both men got to their feet unsteadily, Randy just a fraction of a second behind Rob who delivered a spinning kick to his sternum. The champion was running purely on instinct now, throwing kicks in all directions, some connecting with the number one contender while others fell on flat air. After one particularly energetic kick, both men lay flat on the matt, Randy seeing stars while Rob did his best to catch his breath.

But, soon enough, Rob was on the top rope, preparing to end the match. Randy was still out of it, from what Lita could see; the young man laying, unmoving in the centre of the ring as Rob set himself up for the Five Star Frog Splash. She knew what she had to do. The diva clambered onto the apron, screaming at Rob, at Randy and at Mick who, as referee, was forced to urge her from her position, giving Randy a split second to capitalize. And capitalize he did. It appeared that Rob wasn't the only participant in the match working on sheer instinct and momentum alone as Randy executed a perfect dropkick to Rob who landed astride the turnbuckle before falling to the canvas, his hands clutching at his genitals as he writhed in pain.

Once again, Lita's heart soared and she instantly jumped from the apron, cursing herself for doing such a thing as her weight pressed down on her injured leg. Once sure that Lita would be of no bother or distraction, Mick turned back to the ring where Rob was – for the umpteenth time – getting to his feet but Randy was much faster than he, the St. Louis native striking at almost lightning speed as he hit his finishing manoeuvre – the R.K.O.

For three seconds, Lita held her breath and her heart pounded each time Mick's hand beat the canvas. Once. Twice. Thrice. And suddenly she felt sick.

He had done it. Randy Orton was the new Intercontinental Champion and, damn, did he know it. The twenty three year old collapsed to his knees almost the second Mick handed him the title, his head pressed against the canvas and the belt clutched close to his chest as he began to cry. He knew he would be chided for it, that Hunter and Dave and Ric would most likely make him regret behaving like such a fool but he had won. He was a champion. He was Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. And then he felt it – the tug on his hand as Lita tried to pull him to his feet. "You did it, champ," she said softly as he attempted to move into a standing position, his legs giving way on his first try. "Come on." She encouraged as, finally, he made it to his feet, the diva tugging at his title belt.

Looking back on it, she would never understand what possessed her to do it but she would always blame it on the adrenaline from the match because, inexplicably, she found herself fastening the title around Randy's waist of her own accord, grabbing his hand and, though her ribs screamed in protest at the movement, holding it high in victory as the crowd erupted, making their anger at the new champion obvious.

* * *

"I've never done that before," she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper. "I've never helped someone win a title by cheating..." The only other person in the room appeared not to hear her as he stared down at his new title belt as though it were made of gold. "I mean, maybe what Matt, Jeff and I did in the past had dubious legality but...I was never aware I was doing it, you know? I never knew I was intentionally cheating to..." She trailed off, knowing that Randy couldn't hear her. Just ten minutes before, she had helped him win the Intercontinental Championship and, while the other three members of Evolution were at gorilla waiting for Dave's match against Shawn Michaels to begin, the two had been left alone in the locker room to cool down and get changed.

"Did you say something?" Randy asked, his hands trailing across the cool, metal plate which lay in the centre of the belt. Lita shook her head. "I can't believe it...I'm champion. I gotta call my dad..." She noted that, while he said he had to, he never reached for his cell causing the diva to question whether his father would appreciate the call or not. Silence fell between the two as he returned to staring at his belt, his index finger tracing the name plate which would soon read 'Randy Orton'. "Thanks, by the way. I shoulda said it out there but..."

"But you were too caught up in the moment," she finished for him, laughing. "I cried for over an hour after I won my first title. Jeff and Matt still mock me for it. Or they would. If we were still friends..."

"You didn't have to do it -" Randy began, but Lita cut him off.

"If you're going to tell me that you had the match won then don't bother. We both know if the Frog-splash had connected you wouldn't have recovered."

"I was talking about the fact that he was your friend but..." Randy trailed off, before piping up again, a cocky grin on his face. "What do you mean I wouldn't have recovered? I'm Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. Of course I would've recovered."

"Sure you would've," the diva laughed, wincing almost instantly afterwards as a shot of pain racked through her ribs. She leaned across to grab her bag from the arm of the sofa and began rooting around until she found her painkillers. She tried to turn the cap to open the bottle but found she had very little strength and, though she tried three or four times, she made no difference to the tightness of the cap.

"Let me get it," Randy said and, suddenly, he was much too close. He took the bottle of painkillers from her and, with an ease which made her feel incredibly pathetic, opened it, handing both the bottle and the cap back to her before throwing himself onto the sofa beside her. It was like being under the watchful eye of Big Brother as she took two painkillers from the bottle and, taking a sip of water from the bottle beside her, swallowed them. The diva turned once she had placed the cap back on the bottle, planning to put the prescription back into her bag but found herself inches from Randy who, it seemed, had been studying her intently. "Thanks," he repeated for the second time.

"You said that," Lita replied, avoiding eye contact as she reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He was far too close for her liking now. Her hands grew clammy and her heartbeat soared as the handsome twenty three year old leaned in to close the gap between their lips.

"So I'm thinking you and Dave should be waiting at gorilla in case anything happens during my match tonight," Hunter's voice boomed as the door of the locker room swung open.

"Hunt," said Randy, not missing a beat. "Come here and see Lita's eye, I think Rob might've connected with that stupid cannonball trick he pulled earlier.

And, as Hunter moved across the room in a few short strides to see what damage had been done, Lita had never been more pleased to see him. Or more disappointed.


	14. Chapter 14

So it's been 5 weeks since my last update. But here it is.

Read, Review, Enjoy.

Kimberly

xo

* * *

As lithe fingers danced along the stem of champagne glass hazel eyes scanned the spacious locker room, the occupants little more than blurs of colour and shadow to the diva. She could, for the most part, tell the difference between the males in the room (though Randy and Dave were beginning to look more and more alike with every glass of champagne she consumed...) The females, on the other hand, were more difficult – she had no idea where the leggy blondes or the busty brunettes had come from though she could stab a well aimed guess at 'from ringside'. But their origin was of no importance to her. What was – much to her horror and disgust – was the fact that a slim brunette in an all black one-piece was currently draped over Randy's lap. Lita's grip on the champagne glass tightened and she found herself wondering if, bruises and all, she could take the young lady – she was almost certain she could.

"Top up, Princess?" asked Ric, shaking the redhead from her hazy, homicidal thoughts. She glanced down at her glass which held little more than an inch of liquid and shook her head. She wasn't exactly a big drinker – besides the occasional glass of wine at big dinners or a bottle of beer with Jeff, she rarely touched alcohol. Already, she was feeling the effects of what she had consumed and her thoughts had become hard to follow, a hazy cloud making it difficult to keep her thoughts in track. No, she would need to quit while she was ahead. "Come on," the sixteen time champion urged, his arm snaking around her waist, causing her lip to curl in disgust. She had thought that, now she complied, she could let her guard down around Evolution. _Apparently not..._ she added at the end of that thought. "It's a night for celebration – it's a night for Evolution." As Ric let out one of his trademark cries of 'wooo', Lita clamped a hand over the top of her glass, shuffling and wriggling away from his grip.

"I think...I should go home...back to...back to the hotel..." she finally managed to slur out, her mouth struggling to form the sounds and syllables she required without great effort. She had stopped counting how many glasses of champagne she had had after the fifth one but she knew that it had certainly been at least one too many. "I don't...feel so good..."

Somewhere in the room she heard Hunter inform her that she had better not be sick in the limo or on any of the furniture back at the Hilton but he went unnoticed as Randy spoke loud enough for her to hear for the first time since the mysterious brunette had arrived. "We'll go with you," he said and her champagne-filled stomach did some sort of ungraceful somersault at the prospect of being sat next to him in the limousine. Since they had been so rudely interrupted, her mind had repeated the scene over and over, each time with a different ending and almost always at the most inconvenient of times which made her frown, glare and blush, leaving the others to question what was wrong. But now, in her drunken haze, she welcomed the thoughts, the idea of the five of them riding back to the hotel seeming much less daunting than it usually did. "We were going to head back anyway. Weren't we Sarah?" Randy continued, running a finger down the brunette's neck, his eyes never leaving her lips.

"Samantha," she giggled, leaning into his touch and making it very obvious that he could have been calling her Bubba Ray for all she cared.

All at once, Lita was filled with a violent rage towards the female and she got to her feet as fast as she could – something which she instantly regretted as the blood rushed from her head, leaving her woozy and light-headed. Thumping her glass on the small table between the sofas, the redhead glared in the direction of the 'couple'. "Well you better hurry up, then," she said through gritted teeth, trying to sound composed though the look on her face told that she was anything but. "I'm not going to wait."

And so she didn't.

* * *

Her steps were terribly unsteady and she bounded from one side of the hallway to the other. The diva's head pounded and her stomach felt empty yet terrifyingly full and so, bracing herself against a metal garbage can, she waited for the nausea to subside. "Oh fuck," she gasped, clutching one hand to her stomach as she began to retch.

"Its not the most attractive position I've seen you in, that's for sure," the voice came from behind her, startling her, though she couldnt bring herself to raise her head from the garbage can. "But then, you ain't been looking all that great since you joined those assholes. Starting to wonder what I -"

"Go away, Christian," the redhead replied without turning. "No one asked for your..." another wave of nausea stalled her speech. "...For your opinion."

"And yet, here it is," she could only imagine the smirk which would be plastered all over the Canadian's face and she made a conscious decision not to turn and see it first hand. "You know, I never took you for a lush, Lita. Trish? Maybe. But not you..."

"Shut up, Christian."

"I mean, look at you. Your face is all messed up, you can barely walk, you're vomiting in hallways..." his voice drew nearer and, soon enough, she was bathed in shadow. "Throwing yourself at men..."

He had hit a nerve and he knew it at once as the diva spun on her feet to face him, pointing a finger at his face. It would have been dramatic – intimidating, even – had she not had to steady herself and grip her head. "I do not throw myself at men!" She finally managed to spit out once she was certain she was steady.

"So Orton's a one off?"

"Orton?"

"You know – six foot something asshole with cheap scribbles on his arms? Last seen with you attaching his belt and hugging him?" The Canadian ran a hand through his short, fair hair, smirking as Lita stiffened. "He wasn't even out there to celebrate when Hunter one the belt, was he, Li? But you weren't either..." Lita opened her mouth once or twice, her mouth gaping like some sort of fish as she attempted to argue back, though no words left her mouth. "Is that what this is about, Lita? Did I have it right all along?"

The redhead stared at him, her eyelids feeling heavy, her vision unfocussed. "I have no idea what...what you're..."

"See, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," Christian took a step forward, looking more foreboding than he had done in months, perhaps even years. "Still," he scoffed. "I'm just glad it's not Hunter. Orton's an ass but he'll get sick of you soon enough and you'll be discarded like a used condom."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Christian," Lita finally choked out, feeling her throat restrict and contract once more, informing her that her stomach had not settled since the last wave of nausea. "Randy and I aren't -"

"Oh, it's Randy now, is it?" Christian mocked, his voice high in what she assumed was an imitation of her.

"Randy and I aren't dating." her thoughts still swam uncertainly, her head feeling heavy and her eyelids struggling to stay open. A tiny, nagging voice – which sounded a lot like Trish Stratus – told her that this was exactly why she shouldn't drink. "And I told you why I joined..."

"No, Lita. You didn't. You ignored all my calls." the former tag-team champion pushed back, his demeanour relaxing as his tone rang out as almost bored. "You ignored my calls and my offers of help and you rushed off to be Hunter's little lapdog..." His stare seemed to bore into her as he took in all of her injuries. "And look where that got you."

"Christian..." Lita swallowed, her head hurting as two imaginary hands pushed at her temples causing a great deal of pain. Her thoughts were more muddled now and images of Randy and Rob, of Matt and Christian, of Trish and Victoria swamped her, her eyes forced to close as her breathing picked up.

"It was nice knowing you. Really."

* * *

"I cannot believe you'd be such a fucking cock-block, Lita," she heard the voice before she even opened her eyes but she knew who it belonged to instantly. She had no idea how he knew she had wakened and had no intention of finding out. All she cared about, in that moment, was quenching her thirst. With great difficulty, the redhead reached across to the night stand where she kept her jug of ice water. "If you're looking for your water, you've already spilled it all over the floor." Randy's voice was matter-of-fact as Lita finally took in her surroundings. She was laying in a plush hotel room bed – her hotel room bed – and she was wearing the clothes she had worn in the arena that evening. Her head was pounding and her stomach felt less than settled. But the most unnerving part of her surroundings was most definitely the fact that Randy Orton was currently slumped in the arm chair in the corner of the room, the local newspaper hiding his face. For a moment she was reminded of the stern fathers in movies who would hide behind the newspaper before neatly folding it and unleashing hell on their rule-breaking daughter but she shook these thoughts from her head, unleashing a whole new wave of pain on herself.

"What time's it?" she finally mumbled grimacing at the vile taste which lingered in her mouth as she attempted to sit up. Her stomach turned and the diva found herself clutching both hands at her mouth as she was overcome with the urge to vomit.

"Half past four," came the voice from behind the newspaper. Silence fell when he finished speaking, Lita not entirely sure what to say. She could pretend she didn't remember the altercation with Christian, that she had no recollection of Randy and _Samantha_ finding her spewing her guts up and that any memories of Randy half carrying, half dragging her back to the limousine after telling Samantha to go home were hazy and vague but she knew he wouldnt believe her. "How the hell did you even get in that state?" He snapped, tossing the newspaper aside, finally allowing her to see his face. An eyebrow was raised as he stared on incredulously. "You had what – three glasses of champagne?"

"It was more like ten..." she muttered, rubbing the side of her face and wincing as her finger tips reached the sensitive cuts, bruises and abrasions lining her cheek.

"Doesn't matter. You shouldn't have been drinking at all," Randy shrugged, his lips pulled into a thin line, causing Lita to look away. He was right – not with all the painkillers she had been taking...

"Why are you here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," the new Intercontinental Champion replied, exhaling loudly.

"Does Hunter know you're here?" Randy shook his head. "Thank you. For not telling him I was in...that...Well, for not telling him I was so drunk."

"We seem to be saying that a lot to each other," the young man snorted. "I called Hunt...told him you'd come back to the hotel with me and Sam..."

"I'm sorry that I..." the redhead was no prude but the taste of the word 'cock-blocked' did not sit right in her mouth. "I'm sorry I ruined your night." She waited for him to argue, to protest that she didn't but when silence fell once more, Lita found herself pouting like a child. With neither of them making any effort to speak and Lita's throat getting increasingly dryer, the redhead tentatively moved towards the edge of the bed in an effort to go get more water.

"Ugh," Randy got to his feet before stomping towards the small fridge which sat by the window. Retrieving a bottle of sparkling water, the third generation wrestler marched over to the diva before handing her the bottle. "Or do you want me to open it too?" Lita shook her head, suddenly feeling weak and pathetic under his intense stare. "Right, well, now you're awake...I'm going." And, without so much as another word, Randy made his way across the room and out the door, the slam of which caused Lita to start.

How could the night have gone the way it did? Less than ten hours ago, she had held Randy's hand in victory, had hugged him in the middle of the ring. And then what? She had gotten drunk, argued with an old friend and ruined Randy's night. _I didn't ask him to look after me..._ she thought miserably, doing her best to swallow down some of her water. The diva groaned as she threw herself back onto the bed, her stomach feeling as though it were made of nothing but liquid as it continued to move long after she had settled. What in the name of God was his problem? He had done it out of choice... He wasn't obliged to look after her. But, suddenly, his words from earlier that evening hit her like a train. 'Hunter sees it like its our duty to protect you.' Was that all this was? She cursed herself for being so naïve in thinking that perhaps Randy could have really been her friend or, for a brief, jealous moment, something more. It was all about keeping Hunter happy.

_Why the hell did he try to kiss me then?_ _That would hardly keep Hunter happy..._ but this time it was her own words which cut through her thoughts: you were too caught up in the moment... She had done things that evening that she would never normally do but the adrenaline and the excitement of the match had left her incapable of stopping herself. Clearly, Orton had the same problem...


	15. Chapter 15

Hi there! Hope you all had a fabulous Christmas/New Year/Holiday season and that you didn't go too mad. Well, this is my first update of 2012 - and hopefully the first of many - so read, review and enjoy! : )

Kimberly xoxox

* * *

Upon waking, the diva was much more sure of her surroundings than she had been the last time she opened her eyes. She no longer felt sickly and the pain in her head had subsided to around a five on the one-to-ten scale. Light streamed through the curtains, basking the room in what she assumed to be mid-afternoon sunlight, a golden pool of heat falling into the centre of the double bed she lay in and her over-sensitive senses told her that, at some point in the evening, she had been sick and had not taken the due care to clean it up. The sour taste in her mouth did nothing to dispel this idea. Feeling groggy at best, Lita pushed herself to the end of the bed before hauling herself into a seated position at the edge, her legs swinging round so that her feet made contact with the plush carpet. How was she going to face him today? How would she face any of them? Granted, the others didn't know of her drunken antics – or, at least, they hadn't known upon her last conversation with Randy – but, surely, they would know something was wrong...

The redhead groped along her bedside table in an attempt to find her phone and, upon finding it, glared at the screen which was much to bright for her fragile eyes. The screen read fourteen minutes past three (which caused an involuntary gasp from Lita) and underneath the time, alerted her to a new text message from Randy, which had been sent at nine that very morning. 'Told The Boss you had a hospital check up,' the text read. 'But you promised you'd meet us at four. Don't be late.' There was no warmth from the text, no kisses or small talk and, as the realisation that she had precisely forty-five minutes to shower, dress and meet them at whatever their location was, she began to think that, perhaps, any friendship she had built up with the self proclaimed Legend Killer was gone. That had been what it was, after all; a friendship. A friendship of convenience but it had been a friendship nonetheless. And now? It was business at best.

Hurriedly, she text back 'where are you? Lita x' before rushing off to shower, wincing with every hasty step she took. There was no time to take care, to molly coddle her ribs as she limped to her en suite and the diva grit her teeth before undressing and manoeuvring herself into the shower, the cold water from the shower head snapping her from her alcohol and sleep induced funk. _Maybe I imagined it,_ she thought to herself. _You can never tell someone's tone through printed word..._

Once out of the shower, the former WWE Women's Champion dressed in silence, starting when her cell phone vibrated against the wood of the bedside table, alerting her of a new text message. "We'll pick you up – need to be at the arena early. Remember you've been to a check up for your foot – you think you hurt it last night but Doc says you're clear'. As she read the text, the redhead felt an involuntary smile creep across her lips; angry or not, he still cared enough to fabricate a story for her and, whether she admitted it or not, this mattered to her.

Soon enough, the redhead was dressed in a nondescript pair of slacks and a slash-sleeved black shirt and waiting by the front door of the hotel, her feet back in the black ballet shoes she had worn the night before and aching just as much as they had done back then, too. As she waited, the former champion let the previous evenings events to re-play in her head. How had it gone so wrong in one night? It had been, had it not, the night of Evolution? Well evolve she had. Tangling a long strand of hair between her fingers, the diva sighed. Had she actually been stupid enough to fangirl over Randy Orton? He was a friend if anything, a friend of convenience as she had told herself earlier, and yet she had gotten herself into such a state because he was with some ring rat who would, just like the others, be discarded of the next morning. She tried not to dwell on these thoughts, really she did, but every time her mind wandered to something else – mostly food or Raw – it always came back to the fool she had made of herself the evening before. And Randy. Mostly Randy.

The warm, clothed hand which wrapped around her arm gently shook her from her thoughts, her hazel eyes widening as she came to recognise the chauffeur she had come to associate with the Evolution limo. "If you will, ma'am," he said, his plummy voice unnerving her as he guided her towards the limousine, opening the door and aiding her through to the seat closest. The diva took a deep breath as she looked up, expecting to see her four stable members watching her but, instead, she was met by a pair of blue eyes, boring holes straight into her own.

"Hunter and Ric had some business to attend to. They were running late so they sent Dave and I ahead to pick you up," Randy said, answering the question her eyes seemed to ask.

"And Dave is where exactly?"

"He had to settle something with Victoria..."

"Oh."

Silence fell between the two long enough to hear the chauffeur close his own door, adjust his seat belt and start the ignition. "Anyone would think you're not pleased to see me..." Lita's mouth opened and closed a few time, her brain seemingly struck dumb as it refused to let her speak. "After last night, I'm not surprised though..."

"I'm sorry about that," she said, simply.

"About what, Lita?" the third generation superstar urged, his brow furrowed as, once again, his eyes moved to meet hers. "What are you sorry for?"

"For ruining your evening."

The man across from her let out a heavy sigh. "You really think that that is what this is about? You really think that this is about me going one night without pussy?" As Randy snorted, Lita winced. She had always disliked that word – pussy. "Lita do you have any idea of the shit you were saying in the limo last night?"

Lita swallowed as she recounted the pieces of memory from the evening before, remembering a long winded rant about how Christian was a horrible person, how Trish wasn't what she thought she was and how she wished Matt Hardy was dead but, really, she doubted any of that was what had upset Randy. "Not...not really."

"You told me, in as many words, that you didn't like me. In fact, you went as far to say that you thought you might hate me. You then proclaimed that I was scum of the Earth and that your grandmother would be ashamed if she could see you now," his tone was matter of fact but she could tell he was doing his best not to yell. She noted that when Hunter used this technique, it was terrifying. With Randy, it was upsetting. "So...do you know why you're sorry now?"

"I..." the diva swallowed hard, this time, her eyes scanning the back of limousine in hopes of a bottle of water which had been left over by one of the men. "Randy..."

"I helped you, Lita. I helped you get your god damn job back and went out of my way to make you feel comfortable in Evolution. I tried. I _really_ tried. And last night, I thought maybe you'd finally got it when you put that title belt round my waist...Apparently, I was wrong. So very, very wrong." Each word was heavily enunciated, each syllable sounding more dangerous than the last. "So, Lita, go for it. Explain yourself." For a moment, Randy closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

"You're going to want me to be honest here," she began, not entirely sure where the words were coming from for, as soon as they had formed in her mind, they had already been spoken.

"No, Lita. I want you to lie to me. Of course I want the fucking truth – what the _hell_ are you playing at? Is this still some fucking game to you, Lita? Is it?" The redhead's breathing picked up as Randy's voice rose.

She waited until she had calmed somewhat before taking a deep breath herself and clearing her throat. "I don't like you," she said, barely more than a whisper. "I don't like any of you and, most days, I can barely stand you. But you guys are all I have left." Her eyes found the floor of the limousine as she did her best to avoid his gaze. "Randy, you are the world's most infuriating man. I mean that. You're twenty three years of age but half the time its like you're some hormonal teenager; running around and trying to bone anything that walks... And then the other times...its like you're so much older – maybe older than me! - and it's like you have this huge weight on your shoulders and...And I just can't figure you out. You blow hot and you blow cold and you... You confuse me. So, yeah, I don't like you. That wasn't a lie. And my grandmother would hate what I'd be come so that wasn't a lie either. But as for you being the scum of the Earth..." She paused, finally raising her eyes to meet his. "That wasn't quite true. I thought it was...I thought all of you were. But you saved me. You more than the others, Randy. You saved me and, regardless of how you put it, regardless of what excuses you give me: you didn't have to do that. So I'm sorry for the things I said last night. Really, I am."

She waited, half expecting him to laugh in her face and half expecting him to kiss her again. But he did neither. Instead, he leaned back in the black, leatherette seat he had taken and clasped his hands on his lap. "Apology accepted," he said simply, before turning round to look out of the window.

* * *

"What'd the doc say?" asked Ric, almost instantaneously as he and Hunter walked through the door of the Evolution locker room. Lita sat, as usual, on a leather sofa of her own while Randy and the tardy Dave had taken place on the sofa facing her. Ric cast his eyes between the three of his '_protégées__', _taking in Dave's relaxed demeanour as he flicked through a copy of Flex magazine and Randy's almost tense position beside him. "Is everything alright in here?"

Randy nodded tensely before looking to face Hunter who's eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses to prevent anyone from seeing the effects of the alcohol he had consumed the night before. "Have you seen the match card?"

Hunter smirked and shook his head. "Kid we just got here; of course I ain't seen the damn match card." Dave, without so much as raising his eyes from his magazine, reached over his shoulder, handing over the offending itinerary for the evening.

The World Heavyweight Champion muttered under his breath as he read the match card, making positive noises when he read the match he would be involved in – a non-title match against Spike Dudley or, as he called it, a night off. The same noises of approval were made upon discovering that Ric and Dave would be involved in another non-title match that evening, this time against the pushed together Jonathan Coachman and Rico. However, it was upon reading Randy's involvement in the evening's show that all colour drained. "What the fuck is he playing at approving this?" Hunter barked, scrunching the paper into a tiny ball. "A title defence the night after you won the damn thing?" Lita paused, knowing he hadn't read it properly. There was no way he would still be this calm if he had...

"That's not all...Read it again, Hunt," said Randy, his face still void of colour.

Hunter took his time this time around, carefully smoothing out the paper and lowering his sunglasses before re-reading the match set-up. Lita watched intently as the small vein which ran along his temple began to pulse, faster and faster until it was straining and she was sure he was going to take a heart attack or a stroke or...or...

A bin went flying over her head, an empty water bottle and a scrunched up door sign falling and landing on the sofa as she ducked for cover. "He cannot be fucking serious," cried Hunter before storming from the room, Ric hot on his heels.

"Told you he wouldn't take it well," said Randy, his face still deathly pale as he looked at his Intercontinental Championship. It had only just come back from having his name engraved on a new plate for it and, already, it was in threat of being taken away. A long, tan finger stroked the words 'Randy Orton' engraved on the small, gold plate. "You think I can at least keep this after tonight?" He asked and, once more, Lita heard the vulnerability in his voice.

"Shut up, Randy," Dave said, speaking for the first time in what seemed like an age. The larger man closed over the magazine, uncrossed his legs and placed it on the table between the two sofas. "You're not gonna lose – Hunter's gonna fix it and, if he can't... you can't lose the title in a no contest or a disqualification." The redhead rolled her eyes but said nothing – she should have known that was coming. "So stop your whining cause you're giving me a headache, kid." Randy scowled but, judging by the look on 'the big man's' face, knew it was smarter for everyone involved if he just shut up. Lita studied Dave carefully, taking in the dark glasses, the slightly dishevelled hair and the constant, irritable fidget he had become prone to in the past ten minutes. Was he just hungover or had things with Victoria not gone as planned? That much, she couldn't tell. What she could tell, however was that he was less than happy about being at the arena so early.

Time passed, as it often does, much slower than usual and Randy and Lita's eyes both glanced at the clock almost minutely. Hunter could, on most occasions, get things done. And, if he couldn't, he'd smash things up. As there had been no screaming or sounds of glass breaking, Lita guessed that negotiations were still under way. It took almost half an hour before they saw Hunter again, his face tinged with puce, the vein at the side of his head still prominent against the flesh. "Sorted," he said, simply, adjusting his suit jacket and moving towards the mini cooler where he produced a glass bottle of sparkling water.

"I don't have to defend my title?"

"Not quite, Champ," said Ric, closing the door behind him. "You're still gonna have to defend the title – because Foley made the match...Bischoff can't cancel it. But he can change it." Dave and Randy raised curious eyebrows at their mentor while Lita avoided doing so – the injury above her eye still caused a great deal of pain when she got sceptical or curious enough to raise a brow. "So tonight, Randy Orton will defend his Intercontinental Championship in a Triple Threat match against Rob Van Dam and Kane." Randy swallowed hard. Rob, invoking his rematch clause, was not so much of a threat but Kane – the man who had attacked him and Lita just a week before, and the man Mick Foley had chosen to cause hell in the match – was terrifying. "But," Ric wagged his finger as though this, he believed, was where the real genius was. "But it will be a no-disqualifications match." Lita's eyes flew open, but the stinging feeling above her eye went unnoticed for the time being. Hadn't Dave just told Randy that he should win on count-out or disqualification? Why on Earth would Ric get rid of _that_? The one small hope Randy had given himself...

"What the hell, Ric?" Randy burst, his hands gripping at his head as his eyes bulged. "That is exactly what Kane would want – have you seen the damage he can do with a chair never mind...anything else he can find. Awfuck, Ric._ That_ was your good news?"

Hunter looked at Randy, his face devoid of amusement. "Sometimes, Orton, I'd swear you were brain damaged," he said, his cool drawl having returned now that the awful puce colour had left his face. "If there's no disqualification, there's nothing to stop us being there. Lita, here, will accompany you to the ring. She'll act scared of Kane -"

"There'll be no acting there," Lita muttered, interrupting the faction leader who gave her a stern, near murderous look.

"She'll act scared of Kane and behave like she really doesn't think you have a chance," Hunter paused, waiting for another smart-ass remark from Lita but, when none came, he began to speak again, a small smirk on his face. "And then, when things start to...look dangerous we'll be there. We'll deal with Kane, leave Rob to you."

"Badda-bing, badda-boom. The Champ retains," Ric laughed before letting out a holler of his trademark 'woooo'. But it was painfully obvious that Randy did not share his enthusiasm.

"Fine," he said, casting his eyes back towards his belt. "But I don't want her at ringside."


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, to everyone who knows this story, it has been a very long time and I must apologise for the wait. I had no intention of continuing it. I simply had no desire to write wrestling fanfiction, no desire to write anything lately as it were... But tonight, watching the 20th Anniversary of Raw, I knew I had to write something. This chapter is short but I promise, chapter 17 will be much more exciting, and will have much more action.**

**PS: To the anon who repeatedly abused me until I updated: look at that, your abuse didn't go unwarranted :p**

**Kimberly x**

* * *

The second he spoke, the room was filled with cries of protest. She had expected him to say as much, of course and had even made a mental note to look shocked but there was no acting involved when a strangled "NO!" escaped her. It wasn't his words which hurt, it was his tone, the fact that he couldn't even give her her name... She was simply 'her'. As Ric began to explain – eloquently, as only Ric could – just why it was imperative to the plan, Lita's eyes roamed between the other three men. Dave, silent as ever, looked bored as though he had known this would happen and, quite frankly, he didn't care. She didn't doubt this at all – Dave cared about very little, she had learned in her short time with the faction. Hunter was silent too, something which unnerved Lita to no end, though the look in his eyes did not convey boredom. She was certain that if looks could kill, Randy would have been buried three times over by now.

She couldn't bring herself to look Randy in the eye. Instead she took in the smaller details, the things she had come to notice in recent weeks. His tells, so to speak. He rolled his shoulders – something she noticed he didn't do quite as freely as he had done before Kane's attack – and swallowed, his eyes skirting along the floor. He was nervous or, Lita suspected, scared. In her opinion he had every right to be scared if Hunter's face was anything to go by.

"I don't have...I don't have to be at ringside," she replied, shaking her head. Ric paused mid-sentence before turning to her, taking a deep breath. He was about to argue with her but she had to explain, had to do anything to alleviate the tension. Once Hunter's eyes were on her, she continued. "I could cut a VT. I mean...we could do something to something of Kane's – I haven't thought it through – but if we can get him away from the ring..."

Hunter laughed, mirthlessly. "Well isn't that a wonderful idea," he replied, each word dripping with sarcasm. "Except Kane doesn't have anything. He doesn't care about anything or anyone so how do you propose we get him back here?"

"Well we could... I could..."

"Why are we even thinking about this?" Dave exploded, running a hand through well-gelled hair. "Why do we need an excuse to attack him? He doesn't want her here, we'll lock her in here, go to the ring and beat the crap out of Kane. Take him out completely and that's it." He made it all sound so simple. "We don't need a reason and we don't need her."

Lita's face crumpled, though she did her best not to show it. She hadn't expected to be so affected by his words. They didn't need her. They never had. She needed them though, more than she cared to admit. "He's right," she said with a soft sigh. "You don't need me. I mean, Ric's plan is...hypothetically the best. Entertainment wise. But this isn't about entertainment." She swallowed. After her outburst in the limousine the previous night, she knew she had a lot of making up to do and if that meant going along with Randy's plans, with his wishes, then she was happy to do that. For one night only. After this, she thought, they were even. "We need Kane out of the way and the best way is with the element of surprise."

Ric seemed to catch on. He nodded fervently before rambling about the element of surprise – they needed to make sure he never made it to the ring. They needed, they needed... Lita manoeuvred across the room, picking up a fold up chair before extending it to Randy. "I'd say now's as good a time as any," she said, watching Hunter's lips quirk slightly. "So, if you want to go and attack now... I'll stay here during the match. But I'm not making any promises for afterwards. For the celebrations."

She expected a smile, a thank you, just a sign of acknowledgement but what she got was a sharp tug on the chair and a mutter of "Better get ready then." The redhead faltered. Was she to go? She wasn't to go to the match but he hadn't said anything about now... As they moved to the door, weapons in well-taped hands, however, her question was answered by Hunter who, pointing his index finger at her, barked, "Not you. You stay here. Away from trouble. You did enough the last Raw you were at."

* * *

Boy trouble was not something Lita had encountered much. Sure there had been a boys and men growing up, before Matt but he had been the only one to cause her sleepless nights, the only one to scare her witless and the only one to make her sick with tears. She had never had boy trouble. She had had Matt trouble. And then Randy appeared.

She didn't want to date him – she doubted she could spend enough time around him to date him – and she certainly didn't want to sleep with him because she could only imagine the vile things he would say about her afterwards. But she did want to be his friend. She wanted an ally, someone who would extend their hand and tell her that she wasn't alone.

Except she was.

Randy had been a crutch of sorts. Or maybe he had been the worst of all.

It was all very confusing, she thought, tugging her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. If truth be told, she had never felt so pathetic. She had never relied on the likes of them before and she hated that she had to now. But at the same time, she had never felt so protected... It pained her to admit it but she had been glad when they took her idea seriously. It had started as relief that Hunter wouldn't make Randy explain himself but, as he had taped up his hands and Ric had gathered the sledgehammer, the brass knucks and the lead pipe it had turned to something more. She had felt a part of something in a way she had never managed before.

Team Extreme had been different. They had always wanted to protect her, to save her from the worst of things. Looking back, she could see the secrecy; the things Jeff and Matt had held from her to prevent her from being too involved, from being hurt. Evolution didn't lie to her and, while they protected her, it was to protect themselves. Once she was better - once she was healed - they wouldn't do that. She'd be expected to handle her own. They treated her like an equal and in her opinion it was one of their saving graces.

She had to stop treating them like pieces of dirt. Just last night she had thought her heart likely to burst. When Randy had hugged her, when Hunter had poured her her first glass of champagne, even when Ric had boasted about their 'team effort', she had been one of them. She had been so happy. And she had almost ruined that by getting drunk.

Hunter could tell. She was sure of it.

Or maybe he was still angry about the match... It was often hard to read Hunter. She didn't think anyone could.

The door rattled, shaking her from her thoughts, and she heard Ric's trademark cry of 'WOOOO!' Pulling herself up into a more suitable position, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. "How did it go?" she asked as they filtered into the locker room.

She was greeted by a small smirk from Dave, a glint of red on Ric's knuckles and even a laugh from Hunter as he replied, "How do you think it went, Princess?" _And we're back to that infuriating nickname_, she thought to herself, though she tried to look past it and keep her face neutral. As neutral as Randy's. _So even a bloodbath can't cheer him up. Wonderful._

"He's dealt with. But we've had a change of plans," Ric explained. "The kid, here, suggested them on the way back. We're going to run a little VT before the match - psyche Rob out - and all five of us should be in the ring for it."

"What's the VT of?" she asked, her brow furrowed. Why did they need them all there? Hadn't Randy protested that she wasn't to be at ring side? What had changed his mind?

"Us taking care of Kane," he replied, his winning smirk back in place as he hurled himself into the seat beside her, the sofa shifting back a good three inches under his weight. "Are you sure the doctor said your head was alright? You seem a bit slow." Shooting her a wink, he turned his attention to the copy of Flex which lay discarded on the table, leaving Lita very confused.

And just like that he was back.

It was as though nothing had even happened.

As though he didn't care.

_At least he's not angry anymore..._ she thought, watching Ric rinse his knuckles. This was home now. With cold, calculating Hunter, with octopus-hands Ric and silent but deadly Dave. And Randy, of course, but she couldn't place him. Really, she didn't think she ever would. But for now, that was okay.

It wasn't good.

And it wasn't what she'd planned.

But it was okay.

And she could live with okay.


	17. Chapter 17

I'm sorry, really I am. I'm trying so hard to get back into this story but, hopefully, it'll pick up seeing as I've been watching a lot of Evolution-Era PPVs (mainly the ones surrounding the Foley storyline :P). But, yes, to all of you I give you: chapter 17.

Kim x

* * *

"Dave told you you'd get to keep it," Lita said softly, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles though her eyes never left that same copy of Flex that Dave and Randy had both read before her. She couldn't tell anyone what the article was about; in all honesty she had barely read a word of it but openly staring at Randy would have been rude. That tiny smile and those blue eyes so full of awe... they were hard to look away from though. He was so handsome when he wasn't being him. The thought made her laugh, though she bit on her lip to save herself from making a sound.

"Yeah... He did," he replied simply, his eyes flickering up from the belt momentarily. "Thanks." She wanted to ask what for, wanted to know what she had done to deserve his thanks but he had already gone back to staring at the belt. "It's Christmas next week. Guess mine came early..." She wanted to mock him, to tease him about being soppy, but knowing they were alone, that she was trying to make amends for that silly outburst the night before, she thought it best not to.

Being friends with Randy, she had decided during the match, was a very confusing ordeal. He blew hot and cold and he was a total pig but he was also loyal and she was sure she could count on his honesty, at least when they were alone. But, confusing or not, he was one of just four people willing to speak to her and he had done more for her in a few weeks than some of her old friends had done for her in their entire friendship. And so she had resolved to get to know him. Not that flash bastard who made her skin crawl or the sexist, walking hard-on who would fuck anything in a skirt, but the real Randy. The one she hoped existed. The one she hoped she hadn't imagined, creating something out of nothing in an attempt to cling to something that resembled a real friendship. She had seen glimpses of him on more than one occasion, had she not? She couldn't have imagined all of that...

"What are you doing for it? Are you going home?" she asked, hoping to find the Randy she had been so desperate to kiss the night before. His nod was almost minute, but she looked up just in time to see it and she tilted her head, closing over the magazine. "You don't seem too happy about that..."

"Where's Hunter?"

Lita sighed. Those small glimpses of the vulnerable, endearing man were few and far between and, clearly, now was not time for one of them. "He's gone to see Eric about something...apparently he heard some gripes about Michaels... Were you listening at all?"

"I...No, I guess not," his finger ghosted over the metal once more and Lita shook her head. _Men_, she thought, _have the attention spans of goldfish._ "Wanna watch the rest of Raw?" He didn't leave time for her to answer as he moved towards the television on wheels, dragging it closer to give them a better view and turning it on. The static cleared on the screen, allowing them to enter mid scene. Eric and Foley were bickering about suits and legends and Lita listened intently. Mick Foley, back in the ring... It was an interesting thought, one she would have wholeheartedly welcomed previously...Now though, all she could think was that Mick was making a huge mistake.

"You see Mick, you can't have the best of both worlds. You can't be The Hardcore Legend and be the co-General Manager. You can't. So you make the choice..." Bischoff rolled his shoulders, the look on his face making him look almost apologetic. Mick mouthed across the ring at him, his microphone limp by his side. "But, I like you Mick! Okay, well, I respect you. So I'll make you a deal. Two weeks from now – I'll give you time to prepare – I'll put you in a match. If you lose, you quit. You quit being general manager, you quit being a wrestler. Gone. Finished. And if you win... You can return to the ring full time. And be general manager." He paused, watching Foley with an intensity that terrified Lita. "Sole general manager."

Lita's eyes widened. He had to be very certain that Mick would lose to put his job in jeopardy. Very certain. "And who do you propose this match is against?" Mick asked, sounding more curious than worried.

"Scared, Foley?" Mick shrugged his shoulder, sending Eric a toothy grin. Lita read it perfectly: You don't get a face like this by being scared. "Hmm, well let me think.. Ah! I know the exact person. Two weeks from now – in San Antonio, Texas – it will be Mick Foley: Hardcore Legend versus Randy Orton: Legend Killer!" Randy stared at the television in disbelief, his eyes wide and his full lips parted slightly. While she hadn't expected him to be the proposed opponent, had she given it any thought, she would have supposed he would react better... For some it was a dream come true to step in the ring with the likes of Mick Foley, for others it was simply a way to boost their status in the ring. For Randy, Lita could only imagine it was both yet he seemed far from happy about it.

Mick reacted as only Mick could, with as much vest and enthusiasm as possible, grinning and watching the fans, taking in their reaction. "I'd expect no less from you, Eric. But, I'm afraid it's going to have to be 'no deal' from me," he responded, and the fans went wild. This was not what they wanted. They wanted Mick back in the ring – everyone did! Except Eric and, it seemed, Randy too. "Unless you can meet some...requests of mine." He gave Eric no chance to reply, simply beginning his demands; "I want Evolution banned from ringside. No contest, they can't be there. And I want my choice of referee. I want Earl Hebner."

Lita wished to be a fly in the ring, to hear what the two were saying to each other now that their mics were away from their mouths."Oh, and another thing," Mick continued, stroking on his ratty looking beard. "I want you banned from ringside too." Now that was one stipulation Lita was certain that Eric wouldn't agree to.

"Deal!" He spat, saliva spraying across the microphone, shocking Lita, Randy and everyone in attendance. "Deal! Deal! Deal! I agree!" Mick extended one hand, which Eric shook, the two men using it as some sort of test of strength, their eyes never leaving one another.. Mick gave in first, pulling away from the handshake and leaving the ring, heading up the ramp as the fans went wild. Their beloved Mick was returning and against the Legend Killer no less. Lita could practically hear the electricity in the arena.

Until Mick stopped, turning back to face the ring, that toothless smile unnerving even the strongest of men. "Oh and Eric? Since I'm still co-General Manager for the time being... I'm gonna go right ahead and add another stipulation. Two weeks from now, it will be Mick Foley, Hardcore Legend, versus Randy Orton, Legend Killer – for the Intercontinental Championship!" And then the crowd really went wild.

* * *

She had never been alone for Christmas. She had always gone home to her mom's, where Billy would tease her about her ugly tattoos and her hideous hair and she would eat tofu turkey and pretend she really enjoyed the roast potatoes. But this year it didn't quite seem like an option. She wasn't ready to be quizzed about what had happened with Matt, what had happened with Christian and Trish and Evolution and... The redhead sighed, pushing away the tears that threatened to fall as she boarded the plane to Atlanta, Georgia. She should have been on a plane to Florida, where her mother and stepfather would be waiting on her.

"Ma'am, if you could take your seat please, you're blocking the aisle!" The air hostess placed a hand on her back and she jumped, her nerves still not quite a hundred percent after the Kane debacle, as she had taken to calling it in her head. She slid into her seat, the middle in a block of three, and lamented the fact that she had not got the window seat.

"We could swap if you want?" she heard the voice before she noticed who it was occupying the seat and her eyes fell closed, not wanting to look him in the eye. Not now. "I know you always liked the window seat...said it made flying a bit easier." Of course he remembered. Chris Jericho remembered everything.

"Why are you on a plane to Atlanta?" she asked, avoiding his own questions, his own implications.

"Because this is the only way I could think of to get you to talk to me. Now I'm not Christian or Trish or even Rob. And I sure as hell ain't one of them," the Canadian spat the word, showing exactly how he felt about her new 'family'. "But I figure you still don't wanna talk to me all that much, right?"

_This is all his fault, _she thought to herself, though she didn't dare speak the words. Chris was sharper with his tongue than any man she had ever met – even Hunter couldn't match him when it came to words – and she wasn't ready to be on the receiving end of one of his rants._ If he hadn't brought Matt back to Raw...If he hadn't started all this...I could be Women's Champion. I could be happy... _It was a long shot but, still, it felt good to have someone to blame. "Right." she replied instead, a tone of finality in her voice.

"Well tough shit darlin' because we've got this entire flight and I don't plan on sitting in silence," Chris straightened himself up, pushing his sunglasses atop his head and turned to face her, taking in the sight of her as she buckled her safety belt. She looked different, he noted, her long hair wasn't all over the place and she was wearing a pair of boring black jeans, her top un-customized. It was all very un-Lita, if you asked him. "So what's with the new get up? Was that an Evolution thing or...?"

"What does it matter?" she asked, much louder than necessary, causing people in the aisle to stare.

"It doesn't... I'm just curious. Do you think he's trying to turn you into a Mini Steph? I wouldn't mind a Mini Steph..."

"You're an asshole," she replied, hoping it would end the conversation though, truly, she knew it wouldn't. Once Chris had started, there was no shutting him up.

"I would say I'm more of a lovable jerk. The men you are currently in cahoots with? _They_ are assholes. Peppermint?" He held out a bag of strong smelling mints to her and, for a moment, she felt her lips quirk into a smile. It was all so.._Chris_. But she wiped the smile from her face almost the second it appeared and he shrugged his shoulders, taking back the mints. "I haven't quite figured out what you are, though if Christian's anything to go by, you're an alcoholic whore. But, well, he always was a bit dramatic..."

And so it went for the entire plane ride, Chris talking one hundred miles an hour – loud enough that people asked him to shut up on more than one occasion. For the most part it was nonsensical Chris Jericho bullshit, peppered with the occasional dig at Evolution, even laced with a memory or two but occasionally, he hit home. They had begun their descent when he said finally, "You have no idea what you've done to Trish, do you?" Only silence could answer that one, because it wasn't that 'lovable jerk' speaking any more. It was the _real_ Chris Jericho. Her friend. The one who had had Trish video tape him singing the Spice Girls and send it to her to cheer her up when she as in hospital. She wondered if Evolution would do that for herand it shocked her when she realised they wouldn't have to. They wouldn't have videos sent to her because they wouldn't have left her bedside. Assholes or not, they understood loyalty more than most. "She's in pieces. Doesn't speak to us, most days... Occasionally she'll snap out of it but generally it's to criticise you..."

"Thanks, that is exactly what I needed to hear," Lita replied, though she wanted to badly to tell him how much she missed Trish, how much she missed all of them.

"Actually, it is. You think this is all about you. All about how lonely and sad you are. _You made that choice, Lita._ You chose to be one of them and you can say what you want about how much you had to. There's a line between what you have to do and what you choose to do and you chose them. You chose to wrap that title round Orton's waist, you chose to hold their hands in victory when Matt bled on the ramp. You chose that life. Trish didn't choose to lose her best friend. Christian didn't choose to have his heart ripped out by a complete bitch and Rob didn't choose to be cast aside like a used condom because you found a bigger and better toy. You wanted this. Whether you choose to accept it or not, you like the way things are. I mean, yeah, you're friendless. But big deal, right? You're rolling with the big guns now, you'll have the title in no time, right? That's what they're telling you, huh?" Lita looked outrage, the colour staining her cheeks, but she said nothing, the words struggling to form as he spoke. "You're not the Lita we know...You're nothing but Hunter's bitch." And that was it. That was case closed. And, while admittedly, he had been less harsh than she had expected, his words still stung. Perhaps because they were truthful, she thought.

Later that night, as she sat at home, watching some two-bit game show that made no sense to her, she thought back on Chris's words. He didn't care about her anymore, not really, he just wanted to make her feel bad. He hadn't even text when she'd been attacked by Kane, so he could quit with the whole 'just looking out for you' act... He was only interested in Trish, of course. Trish who was no doubt playing the victim card, cowering when anyone said her name. The redhead shuddered, the feeling of anger, of hatred seeping through her at the thought of Trish playing the victim. What had happened, she wondered, to make her feel this way about her friends? Ex-friends, rather... She sighed, knowing exactly what had happened. She had evolved.


End file.
